


Please, Mister... I'm Hungry

by Little_white_unicorn



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Arguing, Awkward Kissing, Backstory, Biting, Blow Jobs, Bottom Arthur, Confusion, Crying, Declarations Of Love, Deepthroating, Denial of Feelings, Everybody Lives, Eye Trauma, Finger Sucking, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, Food Issues, Forced Masturbation, Forest Sex, Frottage, Guilt, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Making Up, Masturbation, Non-Consensual Touching, Orgasm Denial, Period-Typical Homophobia, Pining, Riding, Self-Denial, Separations, Sex for Favors, Sexual Roleplay, Switching, Tears, Tender Sex, Water Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-09-11
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:00:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 18
Words: 78,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24308608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Little_white_unicorn/pseuds/Little_white_unicorn
Summary: Arthur is an outlaw, a robber and a killer. He'll admit that. But surely he ain't the type to take advantage of anyone-- even if a certain skittish not-O'Driscoll seems bound to let him do it...And once an understanding is reached between them, will they be able to stay together through the hardships they face?More tags will be added as chapters are uploaded. Non-con elements are mostly off-screen. Be warned that there will be spoilers for the entire game.
Relationships: Kieran Duffy/Arthur Morgan
Comments: 83
Kudos: 263





	1. Chapter 1

Arthur didn't think much about the O'Driscoll they'd tied to a tree--not until after they'd been in Horseshoe Overlook for a few days, anyway. He'd been distinctly unimpressed with the man's begging and crying on the back of his horse on the mountain, and after he'd been securely tied up in the barn Arthur had proceeded to ignore his existence.When they'd moved camp down out of the mountains and settled in south of Valentine, he'd intended to keep it up--he was far too busy trying to learn the area and set up some scores to worry about an increasingly scrawny scrap of an O'Driscoll.

That all changed one night, when Arthur was sleeping in his own cot for once, instead of in a ragged tent by the road. He had stumbled back into camp late, guiding his horse past Lenny out on watch with a tired wave and a yawn. No one else seemed to be awake or aware of him, and he fell into bed feeling grateful to be ignored. He'd barely closed his eyes, however, when a soft noise roused him again.

Grumbling, he opened his eyes and peered blearily around the camp, trying to see who was even awake. After spending the last two days sleeping rough, he couldn't seem to relax without identifying the source of the noise.

Finally, he spotted movement in the bright moonlight--a dark figure huddled by the tree where their captive was. Arthur's hackles instantly rose. Had the O'Driscolls found their camp and come back to rescue their erstwhile brother in arms?

Not wanting to get his throat slit in his sleep by a buncha damn Irishmen, Arthur slipped out of his cot and began to creep towards the tree to see who it was (and how many of them there were), pulling his knife out as he went and holding it close to his forearm so it wouldn't glint in the light. He was fully prepared to quietly kill a man and go right back to sleep without further fuss, he was so dead-tired, but as he got closer and began to raise his knife he suddenly recognized Bill's voice, speaking low to the O'Driscoll boy in an odd, crooning murmur.

Confused, Arthur tucked his knife away again and crept closer. He couldn't make out any words, only the tone--Bill sounded strangely coaxing but impatient, and the O'Driscoll responded with fear in his voice. Arthur slipped around the edge of Pearson's wagon and finally got a good look at the scene.

Bill was standing between Arthur and the tree, blocking much of his view still, but his hands were obviously on the prisoner, who was trying to pull away as much as he could--and whose long shirt didn't completely hide the fact that his breeches had been pulled down.

Arthur's felt a twist in his stomach and stepped forward with a snarl. " _Bill!_ " he hissed. " _What in the hell are you doing?_ " He spoke with as much venom as he could without raising his volume, not wanting the whole camp to wake up and get involved with this.

Bill gave an exaggerated, guilty start at the sound of Arthur's voice. He spun around, already stuttering excuses, but Arther just shoved him away, disgusted.  
" _Go back to your tent, Bill! I had better not catch you over here near him again, you hear me?!_ "

He watched Bill stumble off with a scowl. It was time to have a talk with Dutch about what kind of men they'd tolerated in their gang--between this and everything Micah got up to, Arthur was starting to feel ashamed of their associates. Of course he knew that Dutch wouldn't listen, would just give him some highbrow-sounding lecture about brotherhood and all kinds and Micah's not that bad, and who cares about a damn O'Driscoll anyway...

Arthur shook his head, frustrated. He was too exhausted to worry about it right now. He turned to go back to his cot, genuinely forgetting about the man still behind him until he was called in a shaky whisper.

"M-Mr. M-m-morgan? Please--please don't leave me like _this_."

Arthur suddenly remembered how Bill had left the boy exposed and turned to walk back to the tree feeling somewhat guilty. It may have been dark there under the trees, but Arthur still avoided looking at his face while he roughly grabbed the pair of breeches bunched up around the O'Driscoll's knees and pulled them back up. Unfortunately, there was no way for him to ignore the new problem that had sprung up--the boy's cock was at full mast, wth no signs of flagging. There was no way Arthur could comfortably stuff him back into his breeches like this, and he stared at it, nonplussed, for several long moments.

"Dammit, Bill." he growled to himself, and the O'Driscoll made a noise so pathetically ashamed that it made up Arthur's mind for him. Before he barely realized what he was doing, one hand was pulling out his knife again while the other clapped itself over the boy's mouth.

"Listen to me." he said, low but hopefully clear. The boy's eyes glittered at him over the tops of his calloused fingers. "I am going to untie one of your hands so you can relieve yourself-- _quickly_ \--and then I am going to tie you back up so I can go the hell to bed. If you so much as twitch like you're trying to break for it-" he held his knife up to gleam in the moonlight, letting it speak for him.

The boy nodded, and Arthur slowly lowered his hand. He craned his neck around the side of the tree to look at the rope--he didn't want to cut it away and have to find a new one, but it took him a long minute of fumbling to get the knot undone. Finally the rope fell away from one hand, and Arthur grabbed the slack and pulled it tight to keep the other caught. The boy pulled his freed hand in towards himself and lightly shook out some of the discomfort of having had it tied behind him for so long. However, he made no move to touch himself for several long moments, and Arthur grew impatient, ready to sleep.

"You're not getting any privacy, boy, just get it over with." 

The boy still hesitated, and Arthur lost his temper. He stepped forward angrily, making the O'Driscoll flinch back away from him.

" _So I guess I can take this to mean that you'd rather I just tie you back up now and leave you like this for Mary-Beth to find--_ " he said in a low growl, and the boy shook his head frantically.

"N-no, please--!" 

Arthur stopped advancing on him and just stood there, expectantly. Finally the boy reached under his shirt and began to move his hand rhythmically, out of sight but still painfully obvious.

Arthur grunted, for a moment feeling only satisfied. Soon he'd be sleeping, trying to forget about this ridiculous mess. After that single moment, however, the realization hit him that he was going to have to stand here and actually _watch_ \--how else could he make sure the stupid kid wasn't doing something, well, stupid?

He could feel a rush of blood heating his face and stubbornly ignored it. This was all Bill's fault--if he'd kept his damn hands to himself then Arthur wouldn't have to be standing here, intently watching an O'Driscoll jerk himself off in the moonlight. 

He tried to keep staring at the boy's feet, watching for any clue that he was about to try to pull the rope out of Arthur's hands and make a dash for freedom. If his eyes kept creeping up higher, to that distracting motion happening again and again, faster now, well--that was Bill's fault, too.

He cast his gaze away entirely for just a moment when the boy gave a startled gasp, his hips jerking slightly in a motion that Arthur caught in the corner of his eye as he turned, embarrassed.

He gave the other man a moment to compose himself before he stepped forward again, ready to be done with all of this so he could just forget it ever happened. "Put your hand back around the tree." he ordered, roughly.

In less than a minute the knot had been securely retied, leaving the O'Driscoll boy back in his former position, sagged weakly against the sturdy trunk. Arthur remembered to reach forward and tie his breeches up for him before he abruptly turned and stalked back to his cot, ready to start forgetting.

He flopped down somewhat heavily and rolled over to stare at the side of his wagon, ashamedly ignoring the tightness that had sprung up in his own trousers. It was all Bill's fault, anway.

\- ...-

Everyone was surprised to see Arthur back in camp the next morning, as Lenny had fallen asleep after his shift on watch without mentioning his return to anyone. He waved off Susan's comments about his filthy state as he stalked over to the fire. He'd wash up later, after he woke himself up properly with some coffee. Maybe he'd actually bother to ride down to the river and bathe properly before he shaved, after all he--

Arthur's thoughts froze when he absently glanced up while pouring his coffee to suddenly meet the O'Driscoll's gaze. The man's hangdog eyes were locked on Arthur, his face glowing scarlet up to his ears. Arthur stared back, remembering the sound of the boy's quiet gasp of pleasure last night and feeling a flush start to spread across his own face.

A sudden, scalding heat alighting in his fingers made Arthur yelp and jump to his feet, dropping the coffee he'd just absently poured over his own hand. The tin kettle fell straight into the small cookfire, scattering embers and splattering hot coffee everywhere as Arthur stumbled backwards straight into Karen, who was waiting to get a cup for herself.

"What the hell, Arthur?" she yelled angrily, trying to catch him with one arm and raise the other to shield herself at the same time. He managed to catch himself without knocking her over completely, as Pearson came rushing around his wagon and pulled the kettle out of the fire.

"Mr. Morgan! Are you trying to put the fire out or set the camp ablaze?" he yelled, kicking stray embers back into the pit. Arthur could only shake his head, embarrassed.

"Uh, didn't get quite enough sleep last night." he mumbled weakly. "Are you alright, Miss Karen?"

She huffed at him. "Well, I would be feeling a hell of a lot better if I had some damn coffee to drink! Go back to bed if you're that tired, apparently you ain't safe to be around!"

"I'll make some more coffee in a moment, Miss Karen." said Pearson, shaking his head at Arthur, who held up his hands placatingly and backed up away from them, out of the way.

He didn't realize he ended up standing right next to the O'Driscoll's tree until a soft voice next to him made him jump.

"Uh, did you burn your hand?" Arthur turned to fix the O'Driscoll (Kieran, he reminded himself, he had forgotten it last night) with a stare that made him shrink back against the tree trunk.

"What the hell do you care, boy? What do you think you'd do about it from there if I had?"

Kieran stared at the ground. "S-sorry...I just kinda felt bad. I didn't mean to distract you--"

Arthur's hand (the unscalded one) shot out and pinned Kieran's shoulder against the tree."You think you _distract_ me, boy?" he hissed.

"I-I--n-no, I--oh, god!" Kieran stammered pathetically, wilting under Arthur's angry stare. Arthur just shook his head dismissively and turned to stalk over to his horse. Forget the coffee, forget shaving and certainly forget bathing this morning--right now Arthur just needed to shoot something to distract himself.

He hauled himself up on the back of the mare he'd bought a few days ago in Valentine--Pretty Girl, he called her, afraid to give her a proper name after the last one died under him--and trotted briskly out of camp towards the river.

\- ...-

Arthur didn't return to camp until hours after midnight again--he was well on his way to turning himself into a regular night owl, he thought as he jumped down from Pretty Girl's saddle.

He quietly went about untying the turkeys he'd shot, so as not to wake any of the sleepers in camp, and took them over to the chuck wagon for Pearson to find in the morning. As he silently laid them down, he heard a small noise from the other side of the wagon and immediately thought of Bill with a sudden surge of anger.

He crept quickly to the side of the wagon and peeked around. No Bill; their prisoner had been left alone this time. Arthur waited, confused, until he heard the small noise again and realized--it was a sob, coming unmistakably from Kieran.

Arthur leaned against the wagon and rubbed his chin with a thoughtful sigh. Dutch had been clear on how he was to be treated while on the tree, and he was only an O'Driscoll, anyway...

So why did Arthur find himself walking over to the fresh water barrel, then? He surely wasn't thirsty himself.

Kieran stifled himself quickly when he noticed Arthur walk around the side of the wagon, and stared fixedly at the ground. When he heard the sound of water, however, his head snapped up immediately. He stared at the full cup in Arthur's hands, the shaking of his shoulders visible even in the dim light.

Arthur still didn't understand why he was doing this, why he was holding the cup up to Kieran's thirsty lips and carefully tilting it so he could comfortably drink.

The _noises_ Kieran made as he drank--the hasty swallows and quick breaths puffing over Arthur's fingers, the soft wet sounds of his mouth moving, so quiet you could surely only hear if you were standing as intimately close as Arthur was now--it somehow had his stomach twisting into knots. He swallowed rather thickly himself and tried to ignore it.

Kieran's gray-green eyes met his over the rim as he drank the last of the water with a final sigh. Arthur could clearly see the tear tracks on his dirty cheeks and was suddenly disgusted with the whole business.

"You're pathetic, Kieran. This is like kicking a damn puppy." he muttered under his breath as he took the empty cup away from Kieran's lips and turned to lay it back down on the wagon. He debated internally where to go now--back to his cot to sleep, or...

"Thank you." came a soft, teary voice from behind him, and Arthur's mind was made up. He quickly slipped back around the wagon to where the canned goods were stored, and grabbed one at random.

Kieran had already slumped down again when Arthur walked back around the wagon with an open can and a fork, clearly not having expected him to return. He looked up in surprise at Arthur's approach and froze, wide-eyed, at the sight of food. Arthur stopped and stood in front of him, still wondering at himself for even doing this.

"Are- are you just gonna eat that in front of me again?" asked Kieran, his voice hoarse and shaking, tears beginning to well up in his eyes. Arthur shook his head and took a step closer.

"Are you gonna dump it out in front of me like that Adler woman?" Now the tears were spilling down his cheeks, leaving fresh tracks. Arthur took another step closer while shaking his head again. He was barely a foot away now, close enough to reach out and touch.

"Please, mister." Kieran whispered. "I'm so hungry."

Arthur shoved the fork he was carrying into the can, not even sure what he'd gotten. He stabbed a chunk of something and held it up to see.

Peaches. Sweet, wet peaches, the smell was already reaching his nose now. Kieran made a desperate noise in the back of his throat.

"Open your mouth."

Kieran obeyed immediately, dropping his jaw wide so that Arthur could easily place the large piece of peach on his tongue. When he started to pull the fork back, Kieran closed his lips around it, sucking the juice from between the tines as Arthur slid it out of his mouth. He didn't even bother to chew the fruit, just gulped it down wetly with a pained noise.

Arthur clucked his tongue softly. "Don't choke yourself, boy." He was surprised at how low and rough his own voice now sounded. 

Kieran quickly nodded, his eyes on Arthur's face.

"That tasted so good, please god give me some more--"

"Quit talking and open your mouth, then."

Another ripe piece of peach flesh between Kieran's lips, another drop of syrup that he sucked off the fork, this time looking shyly up into Arthur's eyes and flicking his tongue out as he did so, letting it linger against the tip of the tines as Arthur held it there for a long moment before remembering to pull away.

Arthur's breathing was audible now. He watched Kieran's jaw move as he actually chewed this piece, then gulped it down and immediately opened his mouth for more.

Arthur gave him another piece, watching his jaw, watching his lips, watching that pink tongue lap at the syrup on the utensil. Kieran leaned forward slightly and, staring straight into Arthur's eyes, he slowly wrapped his lips around the fork like they were wrapped around--Arthur tried unsuccessfully not to think of it.

Kieran pulled his head back slowly, letting the fork in Arthur's suddenly still hand slip out of his mouth. He didn't break eye contact for a moment, just stared up and whispered "Please, more."

Arthur tossed the fork on the ground and reached straight into the can. He took a step closer, so they were pratically chest to chest now, and held out the next piece of peach with dripping fingers. Kieran leaned forward quickly and took it from him with his mouth--damn, but Kieran was still staring right at him, into him it felt like. He delicately sucked the peach from between Arthur's fingers, and then began to suck on the fingers themselves, lapping at the sweet syrup with a hot tongue. 

Arthur's breath stuttered, and he pulled his fingers out of the boy's mouth with a slightly audible pop. He fed him the rest of the peaches that way, letting Kieran practically suckle on his fingers with each piece. By the time the can was empty, Arthur's cock was achingly hard, neglected in his jeans. 

Kieran was still looking at him, his lips slightly swollen and red now from sucking on Arthur. 

"M-Mister... if... if you want me to, I can..." 

He finally broke eye contact to look down at Arthur's belt, and below to the obvious bulge in his jeans. 

Arthur felt another surge of disgust-- at Dutch for tying the boy up, at whoever the hell had taught him to do that with his mouth in exchange for favors, and mostly at himself for having taken advantage. 

"Is that your price, boy?" He whispered without thinking. "A can of peaches?"

Kieran suddenly looked stricken. "I- I mean-"

He gave up and fell silent again as Arthur turned on his heel and stalked back to his cot. 

Arthur laid himself down heavily and stared at the side of his wagon, forcing himself to ignore the ache in his groin as punishment, listening to the quiet sobbing from the tree grow gradually silent as the sun rose.


	2. Chapter 2

Arthur was...discombobulated. 

He stared at the word in his journal, then scratched it out and tried again.

He was...

Confused

Frustrated

Angry

He crossed out that last one several times. He wasn't exactly _angry_ at Kieran (though he certainly had been back at Six Point Cabin a couple weeks ago). But he had thought that once the boy finally spilled his guts that Arthur would be shut of him, and not have to worry anymore about accidentally meeting a pair of gray eyes and spilling hot coffee on himself, about trying to sleep with his balls aching like he'd been kicked by a horse, about waking to quiet noises in the night-- _or_ about how to spell shit like "discombobulated", what a ridiculous word.

He shut his notebook with a flick of his wrist and stood up off the edge of his cot. He'd been neglecting the chores around camp for a while so far and had somehow gotten away with it, but he doubted that Miss Grimshaw would let it slide much longer.

He walked over to the stack of hay bales and grabbed one with a grunt. Focusing on the heavy weight, he didn't notice until he was at the feeding spot that a bale had already been placed. 

"Huh!" Arthur blinked. Usually it was only him, Charles, or occasionally Lenny who bothered with the heavy hauling, and the other two had been gone from camp all morning. 

He dropped the bale he was carrying next to the one already there. Not like the horses wouldn't eat it anyway. 

He walked back over to the wagon just to realize that the water had also already been hauled, and the grain sacks, too.

Well! Wasn't somebody industrious today! Arthur cast his gaze around camp, annoyed. Thankfully he spotted a pile of logs waiting to be split and quickly made his way over before someone could get to that as well. 

At least chopping wood was fairly loud-- only thing worse than doing chores was doing them and not even getting noticed for it. He could see Susan on the other side of camp look up at the noise and give him an approving nod, so at least he wouldn't have to worry about incurring her wrath any longer. Tomorrow he'd make sure to get to things earlier. 

-...-

But the next day all the chores were done as well-- except for chopping wood, of course. Every day in fact, Arthur soon realized, everything was done early except the damn wood. 

It wasn't til an evening a few days later that he realized why. 

Pearson had ordered Kieran to help him prepare dinner--scrubbing out the pot, bringing kindling over to the cookfire, pulling cans of ingredients off the wagon and handing them down. But when he picked up a knife to start chopping vegetables, Pearson yanked it out of his hand hard enough to make him stumble.

"Oh no, boy, you think I'm letting you walk around me with a knife? I'm smarter than that, son, why in the Navy I--"

Arthur, seated nearby, looked away with a snort. He was sick to death of Pearson's old Navy stories. That was when he noticed how clean the table was under his hand--how neat everything around was, as a matter of fact. Pearson must have had Kieran running around all day...

Arthur suddenly felt stupid. Of course Kieran had been doing all the chores, trying to ingratiate himself. Being seen with an axe, however, was apparently over the line--hence the chopping being left to Arthur every day. He wondered how early Kieran must have been waking up for Arthur not to have seen him cleaning and carrying.

"Hey, Arthur!" Hosea was walking over to him. "I've got an idea for a job we can pull over in Strawberry and I want your opinion. I've got a man who can draw us up some papers..."

Arthur talked with Hosea for a while about the potential job (a clever sounding con involving horse trading) and after that dinner occupied him for a time.

After he ate he wandered over to the horses. His Pretty Girl wickered softly when she saw him coming and arched her neck, ready for a brush. Arthur gladly gave it to her, along with a cube of sugar. 

"That's my girl." he chuckled as she nosed his shirt, wanting more. "Don't be greedy, now."

He kept working the brush while he murmured sweet nothings to her. She was already clean, but he liked spending time with her. He was starting to grow attached despite himself; he hadn't wanted to after Bodicea, but the little filly was fast growing on him. Maybe it was time to give her a proper name after all...

"Kieran." came a soft whisper behind him.

Damn it all to hell.

He turned slightly to see Mary Beth out of the corner of his eye, slipping through the last light of dusk streaming through the trees.

Kieran got to his feet to meet her, and she stood shyly in front of him.

"Um...Abigail asked John to bring her fresh milk from town for Jack, and- and she gave me some that she said was extra. I don't really drink much milk but, but I thought maybe you could use some. Y'know, to put some meat back on your bones and all..."

She held out a small bottle.

"Oh! Uh, thank you!" Kieran took it from her, sounding grateful. "Thank you very much, miss, you- you've been very kind to me."

Arthur felt a growl wanting to escape his throat. He shook his head as Mary Beth walked away. What the hell was he angry at her for?

He didn't have time to consider it, for at just the same moment that he started to turn back to his horse, Kieran raised the bottle to his lips and Arthur was frozen on the spot.

There was just enough light left for him to see Kieran's Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed, a small ribbon of white leaking down from the corner of his mouth and down his jaw. Arthur licked his own lips, remembering how sweet it had been the last time he'd tasted milk and idly wondering if it would still taste as sweet lapping it up with his tongue from the column of Kieran's throat.

He was red up to his ears and openly staring when Kieran lowered the bottle with a sigh that Arthur felt rather than heard. He turned and saw Arthur standing there, watching, and jumped half out of his skin.

"Why are you--" he started to ask, but Arthur didn't hear the rest as he swung himself up onto Pretty Girl's bare back, guiding her quickly with his knees down the path towards Valentine. A night with a pretty whore would cure him of this...preoccupation, Arthur decided as he rode. Maybe a slim little black-haired thing, with gray eyes...

He shook his head firmly. No, he'd get some busty blonde with a red mouth and a merry laugh, that always used to be the type that got him forgetting Mary when he was pining.

...not that he was pining now.

\- ...-

The next few weeks were hell for Arthur, despite making a firm rule with himself not to be in camp around mealtime. He'd embarrassed himself with the Valentine prostitute that he'd hired, and even ended up paying her extra to keep quiet about it in town. The last thing he needed was every painted lady there snickering at him in front of the gang the next time they were drinking in the saloon.

He hadn't tried again after that, though he did finally give up and sneak out to a private (-ish) spot behind a tree after accidentally catching a glimpse of Kieran licking his damn fingers during dinner one night. He tried to do it while thinking of the prostitute, of Abigail before she had Jack, of Mary before she married another man, but couldn't find relief until he finally gave up and imagined it was Kieran kneeling before him and looking up with lonely eyes and an open, hungry mouth. 

After _that_ , Arthur couldn't deny it to himself anymore--he was hot for Kieran, though why on earth his cock had decided itself on a damn O'Driscoll stable hand (not to mention a _man_ , at that) he still didn't understand. Going back to Blackwater to get shot at by Pinkertons while they rescued Sean was practically a relief. 

The loud-mouthed redhead certainly helped to provide some distraction in camp. Between his welcome back party, and a few days out in the swamps searching for Black Belle to get a photo and story, Arthur was feeling halfway normal again. He came back late again after his trip, stinking of swamp water, to hear Kieran quietly telling Sean the story of how his parents died and left him with nothing but his love of horses. Hearing Kieran's voice hadn't spoiled his mood for once, and he had stood there and listened, feeling--what, sorry for him? He tried to shake off the confusing emotion. He'd finally been feeling a bit comfortable in camp again, he should focus on making that last and not on strange feelings about horse boys.

\- ...-

Of course, just a few days later everything then proceeded to go straight to hell in Valentine, and they were forced to leave Horseshoe Overlook. Arthur was riding ahead with Charles while the gang packed up, and when he came back into the clearing they were turning into their new camp, he started counting heads to make sure everyone was accounted for. It was mostly just to reassure himself so he could relax enough to get some sleep. After all, he knew that between Dutch and Miss Grimshaw, surely nobody would--

Arthur came up one short and felt his throat close. It was Kieran missing, he knew instantly. He scanned his eyes over camp while he made his way quickly to where the horses were; surely Kieran would be there if anywhere.

At first he didn't see anyone. Then two of the horses shifted--and suddenly there he was, holding a saddle and looking normal as ever, as though he hadn't just scared Arthur half to death. He gave Arthur a startled look.

"Uh, Mr. Morgan, is something wrong with your horse? I can help if you need me to. Did she get hurt?"

Arthur shook his head, suddenly embarrassed. "Nah," he muttered. "Just came up short on my count, is all. Making sure...making sure everybody got here safe."

Kieran turned slightly pink, and Arthur wondered how frantic he'd looked when he came running over.

"Oh, uh...I did. Thank you, Arthur. Sorry for scaring you." that last bit was mumbled under his breath, like he thought Arthur was going to get angry at him for it.

Luckily for Kieran, however, Arthur was too exhusted to try to deny it. He just shook his head and stumbled back to his wagon to get some damn sleep.

\- ...-

"This strip of shore looks perfect! Pick a spot."

Arthur shook his head ruefully at himself as he followed Kieran down the beach. Hadn't he sworn to himself that he'd keep away from the boy? So why in the hell were they fishing together now, of all things?

But the day didn't go as badly as Arthur feared (maybe because Kieran, perhaps deliberately, hadn't brought anything to eat). He found himself relaxing, letting Kieran teach him fishing tips and laughing at the look on his face when a naked bather swam by them in the lake. He felt an odd softness in his heart watching Kieran get excited over the prospect of catching the rumored giant bluegill, and overcompensated by being rude when Kieran justifiably complained about his treatment in camp. 

He felt the pinch of guilt, far too familiar to him now, when Kieran soon after gave up on the fishing and headed back to camp without him. He stayed there by himself for a while, casting his line without bait and telling himself he was a damn fool.

Soon the sunset was dying the water red, and Arthur forced himself to start packing up. Letting Pretty Girl slowly walk him back to camp, he tried to let the peacefulness of the woods surrounding him bring a little calm to his heart. 

It almost worked, too, until he was startled out of his thoughts by a yell. 

"Get away from me!"

Arthur's head jerked up in surprise as a figure darted past him, quickly pursued by Sean. 

"Ah, c'mon, O'Driscoll! I only want to talk to ya!"

"No you don't! You wanna hit me again!"

Arthur looked down to see Kieran huddled against Pretty Girl's flank. He gave Arthur a pleading look.

"Arthur, c'mon, he- he won't leave me alone!"

Arthur turned to Sean. "Leave him be." he growled. "I ain't got the patience to listen to this today."

Sean rolled his eyes. "Oh, well! I'll just do as King Arthur commands, then! Wouldn't want to bother his lordship with excess noise!"

"That's right, you don't." said Arthur flatly. He got down off of Pretty Girl's back and tossed her reins to Kieran.

"Get her put away for me while I take these fish over to Pearson." he instructed, and Kieran obeyed while watching Sean warily. 

Arthur walked the fish over to the chuck wagon, feeling a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. It felt... good, to protect Kieran from Sean's mischief. Very good, in fact. 

Maybe he was starting to feel more than just hot for the boy.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, I don't know if the updates are gonna keep coming this fast but I just had a bug in my ear this weekend and couldn't stop writing! Hope y'all enjoy Arthur and Kieran's first job together!

Hosea called Arthur over to his table early one morning.

"Hey, Arthur!" he pulled a sheaf of papers out as Arthur approached. "Remember that job in Strawberry I told you about? Well, I've got the horse papers all drawn up and ready. They look good, too, shouldn't raise suspicion with any stablemaster I've ever met, and especially not that fool over in Strawberry."

"That's great!" answered Arthur, glad to have something to do. "So, when are you ready to go?"

"Well, that's the problem--there's something else Dutch asked me to spend some time on over in Rhodes. I really want you to get this taken care of if you can, though--we could make a good bit of money from it, especially since if it goes well in Strawberry we should be able to pull the same con in a few different towns. Think you can do it?"

"Without you?" Arthur asked, surprised. "Ah, I dunno, Hosea. I ain't exactly the persuasive type...this type of job is usually in your wheelhouse, not mine."

"Well, think about it, would you?" Hosea held out the papers, which Arthur reluctantly took. He looked around the camp, considering each of his companions in turn. Who knew the most about horses?

Well, when he put that way it was obvious.

"Actually, Hosea, I think I may be able to make this work. I'll head out today."

"Great! Let me know how it goes when you get back. If I'm done dealing with these damn Braithwaites by then, that is..."

Arthur left him with a wave and made his way over to Pearson's wagon. Sure enough, Kieran was there, scrubbing out a pot while Sadie glared down at him.

"Kieran! Go saddle up, you're riding with me today, boy!"

Kieran and Sadie both looked up, startled.

"Uh, me?" asked Kieran, eyes wide.

" _Him?_ " came Sean's furious voice from behind. "Arthur, you're not serious? You're not really leaving me behind in camp _again_ and taking the O'Driscoll--"

Arthur turned around and jabbed Sean in the chest.

"So you used to work in a stable, then?"

"Uh, no--"

"You know the first damned thing about horses at all?"

"I know how to ride 'em!"

"Well, I need someone to help me _sell_ 'em, you loudmouth fool, and that's why you're not the one coming with me!" Arthur turned back to Kieran. "Hurry up and get ready, boy, we're riding a long way."

"Uh, yessir!" Kieran stumbled to his feet and ran off towards his things while Sean glowered, face as red as his hair.

Arthur ignored Sean and went to pack up his things. It didn't take him long; he was always ready to leave on short notice. When he walked over to the horses, he noticed that Kieran had saddled up both their mounts already. He took Pretty Girl's reins from him with a approving nod and swung himself up into the saddle.

"Let's go." He said, guiding Pretty Girl towards the path out of camp, where they passed by John on watch.

"Where you headed, Arthur?" he asked.

"Pulling a job for Hosea over in Strawberry, we'll be gone a few days."

"We? Who you takin' with you?" He peered behind Arthur and jumped in surprise. " _Him?_ Arthur, you sure about that?"

Arthur glared at him. "You think he's gonna be able to get the drop on _me_ , Marston?"

"I guess not, but...just make sure he don't run off to go see "old friends", alright?"

"I told you, mister, I ain't ever gonna back to the O'Driscolls! I hate Colm!" whined Kieran, obviously annoyed. "I'm with you folk now, how many times I gotta say it?"

"You can say it as many times as you want, I still don't trust you!" John snapped back at him. Arthur cut him off with a raised hand.

"It don't matter, Marston. I need someone to help me sell horses, and Hosea's busy so Kieran is it. If he's gonna run with us he needs to start properly earning his keep, and that means running jobs with the rest of us."

"With you, maybe." John muttered at his back as he spurred Pretty Girl forward. Kieran followed quickly on Branwen, and they rode in silence for several long minutes.

It was Kieran who broke the silence. "Um...where did you say we were headed, Arthur?"

"Strawberry." he grunted, keeping his eyes on the road. He was starting to realize exactly how long he'd be alone with Kieran and was regretting this decision.

"And...we're selling horses?"

"Yeah. Hosea knows a gullible stablemaster there, and had some phony horse papers drawn up for us so we can get a good price."

"Oh." said Kieran, thoughtfully. "Uh, what horses are we selling, then?"

Arthur gestured at the ones they were riding, and Kieran's eyes widened.

"Wha-? Arthur, I- I can't sell Branwen, she--"

"Calm down, Kieran. After we sell 'em to the stables we're gonna go and get 'em back that same night. Just to be clear, _you_ will be doing the selling and _I_ will doing the getting back."

"Ohh." Kieran understood the plan now. "So we'll just sell 'em...temporarily, I guess. Branwen and...sorry, Arthur, what was your horse's name again?"

Arthur shrugged. "She ain't really got one, I guess. Just been calling her Pretty Girl...my last horse, Bodicea, got shot out from under me." He was surprised to realize that he was still a little choked up about it.

"Oh, Arthur...I'm sorry." said Kieran sympathetically. "That's real hard."

"Yeah..." muttered Arthur, getting a hold of himself. "Anyway, I didn't really want to get attached to this one...guess I kinda have anyway."

"You should give her a real name, Arthur." encouraged Kieran. "She likes you a lot, I can tell. She's a real good animal...she deserves a name."

"You're right." Arthur admitted. He reached down and gave her neck a pat. "She has been real good to me. I ain't great at coming up with names, though. What would you name her?"

"Oh, I dunno...I'll think about it, I guess. We'll find a real pretty name for her, I know it!" he gave Arthur a bright smile that socked him right in the chest.

"Thanks, Kieran." he muttered, smiling back in spite of himself. 

They continued on in a surprisingly comfortable silence for most of the day, til the sun started to grow low. 

"Let's stop and make camp." Arthur directed. "This ain't urgent, no reason to travel through the night."

"Alright, Arthur." agreed Kieran. He slid off of Branwen's back and started to help Arthur set things up in the spot off the road they'd picked out, taking care of the horses while Arthur built a fire and set up his tent. 

Arthur then lied to Kieran about his head hurting after a day in the sun--it may have been cowardly of him, but he just didn't trust himself to sit by him at the fire just yet. He paused as he retreated into the safety of his tent. 

"You bring a tent yourself?" he asked. 

"Nah, I'm fine under the stars. Weather's perfect. Sorry 'bout your headache."

"I'll be alright." muttered Arthur. He dropped into his bedroll and stared up at the top of his tent. He couldn't keep being so afraid just to be around the boy-- didn't he have more control of himself than that? Or was he just gonna keep acting like some teenage boy who didn't know not to stare?

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a quiet lullaby. Kieran was singing to himself by the fire.

_Hush-a-bye, don't you cry  
Go to sleep, my little baby  
When you wake, you shall have  
All the pretty little horses_

_Dapples and grays, pintos and bays  
All the pretty little horses_

_Way down yonder in the meadow  
Poor little lambie crying "Mammy"  
Birds and the flies, peck out his eyes  
Poor little lambie crying "Mammy"_

_Hush-a-bye, don't you cry  
Go to sleep, my little baby  
When you wake, you shall have  
All the pretty little horses_

_Dapples and grays, pintos and bays  
All the pretty little horses_

Arthur shuddered. Kieran's voice when he sang about horses was achingly beautiful to him, but that middle verse--why did so many lullabies have such dreadful lyrics? It gave him an uneasy chill that he tried to ignore as he went to sleep. 

\- ...-

They broke camp quickly the next day. Arthur peered in his saddlebag to see what fruit he was carrying for breakfast. He pointedly reached past a ripe peach and grabbed a couple of apples instead, tossing one to Kieran. He forced himself to just stand there while they ate, _not_ staring at Kieran's mouth. 

_Self-control, Arthur._ He told himself. _You've got a hell of a lot more than you've been choosing to display._

After they ate they were back on the road, riding in silence for several hours. 

"What about Beatrice?" said Kieran suddenly, slightly startling Arthur.

"Huh? What about it?"

"For your horse, I mean. Beatrice. It's real pretty, it starts with a "B" like the old one...I think it's in some old play. Shakespeare."

Arthur chuckled. "What the hell you know about nonsense like Shakespeare, boy? You been listening to Dutch?"

Kieran blushed. "Well, I don't really know anything about it, I just think that's where the name is from, is all. I just heard it once."

"Beatrice." said Arthur, consideringly. "You know, you might have it there, Kieran."

He reached down and patted Beatrice's neck. "What you think, girl? You like Beatrice?"

She tossed her head in seeming agreement and Kieran beamed. Arthur had to quickly look down at his hands; seeing Kieran smile so brightly gave him an odd pain in his heart. 

"We're getting close to Strawberry." Kieran pointed out. "Want to go over the particulars?"

Arthur gave himself a shake. "Uh, yeah." He surveyed the area around them. 

"So I'll make camp nearby-- I'm thinking north of town, that asshole Micah used to hide out there so we should be able to, too. You'll head over to the stables with the horses by yourself, that way we're not seen together. Give 'em some sob story about losing your home and needing to sell the last of your family's horses for money, and get as much as you can. Then, you'll meet me back at camp. After nightfall, I'll go back over there and release all the horses out of the stables so it won't be so obvious at first that the only ones missing are the two they just bought. And then we get the hell out of here with the money."

Kieran listened carefully, but he had a worried look on his face. "Arthur...look, I'll be able to sell the horses just fine, that ain't a problem. But- but what if I run into any O'Driscolls in town and they recognize me? If you aren't with me--"

Arthur cut him off. "There's plenty of them that would recognize me before you, y'know. Didn't you say yourself that Colm always has new men? 'Goes through 'em like cigars', I believe you said."

Kieran's face darkened. "He does." he confirmed in a mutter. 

"Well, it ain't as much of a risk as you think, then is it? All the same, we could disguise you a bit, I guess... I'll lend you my shirt and coat, and you should shave your face, too."

"Shave?" repeated Kieran, eyes wide. "Oh, no, Arthur, I can't! I look like a baby without a beard!"

"Even better! You're trying to look like some innocent little stable boy, ain'tcha?"

"I guess..." mumbled Kieran. Arthur ignored him. 

"Turn north here, we need to circle wide around the town now so we're not seen."

They made their way to a half-hidden clearing above the town, and Arthur set about sharpening his knife while Kieran changed his clothes for one of Arthur's spare shirts out of his saddlebag. Once the knife edge was like a razor, Arthur handed it over. 

"Don't got a shaving kit, but that oughta be sharp enough to be comfortable with just water. You alright without a mirror?"

Kieran took the knife with a grumble. "Yeah, I got it."

Arthur started pulling the saddles and other tack off of the horses and stacking it all neatly. When he finished, he turned around and had to jump at the sight of the bare-faced boy in front of him. 

"Holy hell, kid, you weren't kidding!"

Kieran turned bright red as he handed the knife back. Without any whiskers, he could easily have passed himself off as a boy of barely twenty--as long as one didn't look close enough to see the crow's feet at the corners of his eyes. 

"Yeah, I know." he mumbled, embarrassed. "Anyway, you don't think the O'Driscolls will recognize me like this?"

"I should say not, I barely did myself!" Arthur said with a chuckle. "Anyway, it's getting to be late afternoon-- hurry up with them horses down to the stable and meet me back here as soon as you're done."

He watched Kieran walk off over the horizon to town and settled himself in for a short nap. 

\- ...-

When he woke, however, Kieran wasn't back yet. There was no sign of him for another full hour, and Arthur started to grow worried as the shadows grew long. Had he just sent the boy straight into the O'Driscolls arms after all?

But just before the sun fully set, he finally heard a light step making its way through the trees-- accompanied by a rather jaunty sounding whistle. 

Kieran appeared a moment later, obviously slightly drunk and with a sideways smile. Arthur felt himself relax. 

"Ah, sorry Arthur!" Kieran said with a tipsy giggle. "They, uh, they invited me in, and since we hadn't decided on a price yet, I thought I might be able to butter 'em up over dinner--"

He held out a small basket he was carrying. "Brought you back some cinnamon biscuits the missus gave me-- said I was too skinny, I didn't tell her it's cuz I was tied to a tree!"

Arthur chuckled and shook his head. "Well, sounds like you couldn't get away, I guess." He said, reaching for a biscuit-- but Kieran suddenly pulled the basket away with a glint in his eye. 

"Open your mouth."

Arthur stared at him, slowly turning red. After a long moment he obeyed, and let Kieran take one of the treats and lay it carefully on his tongue.

Arthur broke the tension between them by grabbing Kieran's hand by the wrist and sucking the cinnamon off his fingers with a comical slurp that made Kieran burst into laughter. 

"There." said Arthur. "We a bit more even now?"

"A bit." agreed Kieran, still laughing. He handed over the basket, and between the two of them they made short work of it. 

"So, how much did you get, anyway?" Arthur asked, lazily brushing cinnamon off his shirt. 

"Five hundred dollars."

Arthur lost his balance and fell off the rock he was leaning against.

"Five--did you say _five hundred dollars_?"

"Well, sure, Arthur." said Kieran with a casual shrug. "They're good horses."

Arthur gave him a clap on the shoulder. "That's good work, Kieran." he said, and he meant it. Kieran just looked down at the ground, embarrassed but obviously a little proud, too. 

Rules were rules, though--

"Hand over the cash for now." instructed Arthur. "I'll keep ahold of it, as I'm senior here."

Kieran pulled out an absurd wad of cash--five hundred dollars!--and handed it over without complaint. Arthur silently tucked it away and then got to his feet. 

"Alright, time for my end of the work, then. You stay here, and be ready to saddle up in a hurry. Once I get the horses I want to get away from town before we make camp."

Kieran nodded, and Arthur started on the path towards town. He circled wide and soon found himself at the back of the stable. From there, it was remarkably easy to slip in unnoticed-- Kieran had come back only a little drunk, but it appeared his hosts had indulged themselves a little more and were passed out. 

He swiftly opened all the stall doors and began to shoo horses out-- when he came to Branwen and Beatrice he grabbed their leads and took them out to the side with him. He hopped up on Beatrice's back and grabbed Branwen's lead with a firm hand-- then started firing his pistol off in the air with the loudest shout he could muster. 

The yard turned into chaos-- confused, whinnying horses all trying to get away in the dark and bumping into each other. After making sure several had escaped from the yard, Arthur took his two around the back again and slipped away just as the lights were barely starting to come on in the house. 

Kieran was ready and waiting with the horse tack-- they were saddled up and on their way again in only a few minutes, flying down the road back east. 

Once they had put enough miles behind them for Arthur to feel comfortable, he had them move off the road and make camp in a small clearing. He waited until Kieran was done taking care of the horses to approach him. 

"Here." he said, holding out a wad of cash. "Your share."

"My--" Kieran just looked at it without reaching out. 

"Your share." Arthur repeated. "Half goes to the gang, automatic. The other half is split, so that's $125 for you, boy. You did a good job."

"I- oh!" Kieran took the money with trembling fingers. "I didn't think..."

"You did half the work, didn't you?"

"Well..." Kieran stayed frozen for a moment, then quickly jammed it in his pocket like he thought Arthur might change his mind and take it back. 

Arthur watched him, suddenly feeling doubt prickle at him. "You ain't gonna run off on me now that you got yourself some cash, are ya?"

"Wha--? No! No, of course not! The whole reason I joined y'all was to keep away from the O'Driscolls, I ain't ever giving them a chance to take me back! Without you, I'd be a sitting duck out there!" Kieran was obviously sincere, his voice turning venomous when uttered the name O'Driscoll. It made Arthur curious. 

"Why you hate them so much?"

Kieran looked down at the ground, his face turning gray. Now Arthur needed to know. 

"What did Colm do to you?" he whispered, and when Kieran looked up, stricken, he knew he'd guessed right.

"He--" Kieran was looking anywhere but at Arthur. "He- he used to--"

Arthur laid a hand on Kieran's shoulder and was shocked to hear him sob.

"Kieran." he said quietly, and then just waited. Finally Kieran spoke in a hoarse whisper, tears shining in his eyes. 

"He- he used to make me bend over a saddle for him at night." he confessed, shaking. Then, seeing Arthur's confusion, the words burst out of him in an angry tumble. "Oh, come on, Arthur! There weren't--Colm doesn't have any women in his gang, does he? So when he got drunk, he used to come down to where I slept in the stable, he'd throw a saddle over the fence and make me--make me go and bend over it so he could--"

"HE _WHAT_?!" roared Arthur, furious. Kieran flinched back from him, and Arthur forced himself to speak more quietly. " _Are you serious, boy?!_ "

But it was obvious from Kieran's ashamed, tearful face that he was. 

"Shit!" Arthur could only stare at him for a long moment, horrified and feeling slightly sick, before he remembered himself and stumbled forward to wrap his arms around him. 

Kieran sobbed against his chest, and Arthur felt his heart breaking. 

"I'm sorry, Kieran." he whispered, but the apology felt lamely inadequate. "You don't--we ain't like that in this gang."

He remembered the incident of a few months prior and his face darkened. "'Cept for Bill, apparently."

Kieran pulled back from Arthur's embrace, scrubbing at his eyes. "Aw, I ain't worried about Bill--I can get away from him now that I ain't tied down. You stopped him the one time he tried."

"I stopped him then, sure." muttered Arthur, remembering how he'd acted with shame. "But I--I didn't treat you so well myself."

Kieran shrugged it off too easily. "You gave me food when I was starving, Arthur. And you didn't take the payment I offered. There's plenty of men in Colm's gang that would have."

"Well..." Arthur released Kieran from his arms entirely and suddenly remembered that they were in the middle of making camp. "Guess I do understand now. You won't be running be back to them."

"Not _ever_." Kieran spat. He looked back up at Arthur with fear in his eyes. "Arthur, you won't tell anyone about this, will you?"

"Course not." Arthur muttered. He turned away to start building a fire, and they spent the rest of the night in a tense, uncomfortable silence. 

\- ...-

Thankfully the tension between them seemed to dissolve in the morning sun. Arthur deliberately didn't mention what Kieran had told him last night, and decided instead to distract them both by asking Kieran what he was going to use his money to buy for Branwen.

Kieran had lit up at that, and chattered happily about different kinds of horse tack all the way back, with an amused Arthur just nodding and "mmm-hmm"-ing occasionally to keep him going. 

He almost didn't notice when they made it back to camp, until they passed by Sean on watch.

"Well, lookie here!" Sean jeered. "Arthur left camp with a boy and comes back with a baby!"

Kieran's bare face flushed scarlet, and Arthur rounded on Sean angrily.

"How many times I have to tell you to leave him alone, Sean?" he snarled. Sean stepped back, startled.

"Aw, Arthur, I'm only teasing--"

"Well, I'm sick of hearing it! I told you that before!"

"Well, alright then, King Arthur! I'll leave him alone!" Sean muttered, holding up his hands placatingly. 

Arthur rode past him quickly, annoyed, so he didn't see the odd look Sean gave his back.

He guided Beatrice over to the horses and tossed her reins over to Kieran out of habit.

"Here, take care of her for me. I'm gonna go find Hosea, let him know how we did."

"Sure thing, Arthur." Kieran slid down off of Branwen and started to guide them both over to the hitching station while Arthur walked into camp. 

It felt good to be back with everyone, if only for now. Even Kieran was more relaxed. For just a moment at least, Arthur felt at home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the lullaby that Kieran sings is honest to God real. I'd only heard the first verse before and was pretty shocked when I looked up the whole thing... I'm 100% convinced now that the game creators had to have had it in mind.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the comments, y'all are the wind beneath my metaphorical wings! Hope y'all enjoy chapter 4, be warned this one has feeeeeelings...

Hosea had been impressed by Arthur's success taking Kieran out on a job--Dutch, not as much.

"That boy is a liability, Arthur! I have already been more than generous in just allowing him to stay in our camp--"

"Which is why he needs to start earning his keep, Dutch!"

Dutch's face darkened. "And has he not been doing his share around here, then? I thought he was supposed to be taking care of the damn horses!"

"He is, Dutch." Hosea interjected. Arthur was was grateful he was here--he hadn't exactly expected Dutch to jump for joy at the news that Kieran had been out on a job, but he'd been taken by surprise at the level of his anger.

"He's doing a fine job taking care of the horses, and it sounds like he did a fine job with Arthur over in Strawberry, too." Hosea continued. "Right, Arthur?"

"We was careful, Dutch. You really think I'm gonna put everyone in danger? Or you just think I can't keep track of some half-starved horse boy?"

Dutch's eyes narrowed at the sound of Arthur's tone when he said "half-starved". "I hope you remember that I did that for all our sakes, Arthur."

Arthur just looked him, silent, and finally Dutch threw up his hands. 

"Well...how much did you get, anyway?"

"They got five hundred dollars, Dutch, and that's a hell of a lot more than I would have been able to sell them for, I can tell you that for sure." answered Hosea.

Dutch considered it. "Five hundred?"

"For two horses--that we still have, of course. I was only counting on three hundred, myself."

Dutch glared at Arthur for a long moment. "If he keeps taking in that kind of money...then you can keep taking him out. But I'm considering him _your_ personal responsibility, Arthur!"

"Of course, Dutch." Arthur agreed. "Trust me, he won't be no problem."

"He had better not be." growled Dutch. And with that, he turned and stalked up the hill to disappear back into his tent. A few moments later, the sound of his and Molly's raised voices were drifting through camp once more.

Hosea sighed. He and Arthur stood for a moment together, looking out over Flat Iron Lake as the red sun rose.

Arthur turned to Hosea and spoke quietly. "You think I made a mistake, Hosea?"

"Huh? Oh, no, no...Dutch is just...he worries, you know, with everyone to look after. It's hard for him to take risks with so many relying on him, and harder for him to trust." He gave Arthur a measured look. "But you think this boy--Kieran--you think he's worth trusting, don't you?"

"I wouldn't have taken him out if I didn't, you know that, Hosea." Arthur gave a quick glance around to make sure no one was too near by, then leaned over close and spoke quietly. "Look, Hosea, I can't- I can't tell you exactly, but Colm is more of a monster than even we took him for. The story I dragged out of that boy...he ain't ever going back. He's ours now, I know that."

Hosea shrugged and gave a heavy sigh that trailed into a cough. When he recovered his breath, he spoke in a quiet voice. "Well, Arthur, if you believe it, then I guess I do too. You'll have a hell of a time convincing Dutch, though."

"Yeah, I know, Hosea. Thanks for your help."

"Don't mention it." Hosea left him then and started walking towards his tent, but stopped and turned back for a moment. "I'm getting the next set of papers drawn up, by the way. I'll be out at the damn Braithwaites again so I've ordered them delivered to Seamus up at Emerald Ranch. Figured you'd be headed that way next anyway, and I think we can trust Seamus better than some postmaster."

Arthur nodded. "Thanks, Hosea. Should I give it a few days before heading up?"

"No more than that. They shouldn't take that long, if that damn fool I'm paying actually knows what he's doing, that is..." He left Arthur, grumbling to himself. 

Arthur kept looking out over the lake for a long time, the sun beating down on the top of his head as it lifted itself in the sky. Damn, but it was hot here! The humidity was downright cloying. Arthur had no idea why anyone would voluntarily dwell in such a place. 

Well, he couldn't bake himself in the sun forever, and if he was going out again soon then he ought to prepare his things. He went over the list in his mind as gathered supplies and headed over to the scout fire. Arrows for small game needed fletching, he'd given his last bottle of medicine to some snake-bit fool by the road, there was a pile of oleander he'd meant to use on his throwing knives...

He settled down by the fire, ready for a few hours of crafting. After just a few minutes, however, a head peeked out over the back of one of the horses nearby.

"Uh, hey, Arthur." Kieran greeted him, a bit awkwardly. 

He slipped around the horse to sit by the fire. "So, uh...was Dutch mad about Strawberry?"

Arthur grunted in response, keeping his eyes on the arrow he was working on. "Well, he sure wasn't mad about the money we made, at least."

"Well, that's good, right?" said Kieran hopefully.

Arthur remembered the look in Dutch's eye. "Yeah, kid. It's great."

Kieran groaned. "Please don't call me kid, Arthur, bad enough that my beard is taking so long to grow back in...I'm not even that young, you know!"

"How old are you, anyway?" asked Arthur, setting the finished arrow aside and grabbing another.

"Um..."

"You don't know?" Arthur raised an eyebrow.

"Well, I told you that my parents died when I was real little, and I didn't have any reason to keep track for a long time..."

"Well, how'd you join the army, then?"

"I just told 'em I was eighteen when I joined up. I probably was by then...lots of recruits can't really prove their age, anyway, so as long you look old enough, they'll pretty much take you. It helped that I already had a bit of a beard by then...more than I do now." He rubbed at the stubble on his chin, ruefully.

Arthur continued working on his arrow. "Well, how many years have passed since you first went in the service?"

"Uh...well, I was in the army almost two years...I was on my own for, I guess at least a year and a half after that, 'fore I found more steady stable work for about a year...then I ran with a couple of others that I fell in with, don't think you could call us a gang, but we were together five years, almost, before the O'Driscolls found us, saying "Ride or die"...and I'd been with them less than a year when you tossed me on the back of your horse and I ended up here."

Arthur added it up in his head. "So you're, what...twenty-seven?"

"I guess so. Sounds about right, anyway." Kieran agreed.

Arthur set his arrow aside and looked closely at Kieran's face. Crow's feet in the corners of his eyes, but his forehead still smooth and unlined...he nodded.

"Looks about right to me, too. Maybe a couple years off, at most." he picked his arrow back up and went back to work. "You're still a kid, though."

"Aw, c'mon, Arthur!" Kieran protested, but Arthur just laughed.

"Quit yapping at me now, I've got to finish up with this."

Kieran stood and left with a indignant huff, while Arthur just shook his head, amused.

\- ...-

Arthur woke feeling restless the next morning. It was the damn humidity; it made him feel like he would start to melt where he stood if he stayed still for too long.

He went looking for Kieran, and found him in his usual spot by the horses.

"Kieran! You ready to go sellin' horses again with me?"

Kieran looked excited for a moment, but drew himself up and gave Arthur a suspicious look.

"...You gonna make me shave again?"

"Well, if you'd rather stay in camp..." Arthur asked sarcastically, giving Kieran a loose shrug.

"Oh, no, no, no! I- I mean, if I have to, I guess I could..."

Arthur had to laugh at his crestfallen face. "Kieran, I have never seen a man so attached to the whiskers on his own damn face. You probably won't have to shave this time, anyway, we won't be going far enough west to run into any of your erstwhile 'ssociates. Shouldn't, anyway."

Kieran perked up at that. "Well, alright then, I'll get Branwen and Beatrice ready to go."

Soon they were off, and this time it was Charles out on watch giving Arthur a funny look.

"You're not really taking _Kieran_ out with you, Arthur?"

Arthur shrugged. "Talks less than Sean."

Charles rolled his eyes. "Ugh. Fair enough. Long as Dutch is fine with it."

"He is." said Arthur easily, knowing that Dutch was _not_ strictly "fine" with it.

"Come see me when you get back, then. I want to go hunting, and I was hoping you'd come with me again."

"Always, Charles." Arthur called back over his shoulder as they left.

He and Kieran were soon out on the road again, and Arthur felt strangely...relaxed. No more odd looks from anyone, just him and Kieran and the sunny road up to Emerald Ranch. Felt kinda peaceful. He hoped some more people from camp would come around to trusting Kieran soon, but he wasn't exactly holding his breath on it.

"Hey, Arthur? Can I ask you a favor?" Kieran asked, guiding Branwen up to trot next to Beatrice so they could chat face to face.

"What is it?" asked Arthur, always suspicous of requests for favors.

"Well, after we get done with this new job, would you mind taking me to town to buy some new horsetack? Branwen's bridle is worn almost clean through in a few spots, and I still don't really like to go anywhere by myself. I figured, if we were out anyway..." He looked at Arthur nervously, like he expected a refusal.

"Sure, Kieran." Arthur considered it for a moment. "Matter of fact, we might be able to take care of it first, if you can find what you want at the stable over at Emerald Ranch. We won't be able to get very far from there tonight before we need to make camp anyway, might as well go on and stop."

Kieran brightened visibly and reached down to pat Branwen's neck. "Hear that, girl? We're gonna get that old thing replaced for you soon."

Arthur watched Branwen preen under Kieran's attention. "You really think it matters to the horse how new her bridle is?"

"Well, of course, Arthur." Kieran gave him a _How dumb can you be?_ look that made Arthur flush. "Why, it makes a world of difference in how it fits, and how it feels for them--"

And then he was off talking about horsetack again, which occupied them comfortably until they reached Emerald Ranch.

As the approached, Arthur guided Beatrice with his knees closer to Branwen, and reached out to give Kieran a rough pat on the shoulder. "Listen, I think I've heard enough about bridles to be able to recite it in my sleep. Why don't you go on over to the stables now and pick you out one, and I'll go see Seamus, alright?"

Kieran at least had the decency to look embarassed at chatterboxing, Arthur thought. "Alright, Arthur."

Arthur watched him disappear into the stable door, then turned and rode for Seamus. The fence was standing out in his usual spot, but when he spotted Arthur coming he quickly ducked into the barn. Arthur knew the routine; he hitched up Beatrice and slipped in the other door.

Inside the barn, Seamus was already pulling out a sheaf of papers that had been hidden under a pile of broken tack waiting to be mended.

"I guess you'll be wanting these, then?" he asked, holding them out with a raised eyebrow.

"Why, thank you kindly, Seamus." Arthur said, taking the papers. "You always did have an admirable focus on business. Hosea already pay you for these?"

"Oh, of course, Arthur. He's had it all arranged."

"Good man." Arthur muttered. He gestured at Seamus. "I mean you too, not just Hosea."

"Look, just don't tell anyone where you got 'em from, alright? I may trust Hosea, but..." He gave Arthur a doubting look that made him roll his eyes.

"Yeah, I know, Seamus. Don't worry about it, we sure as hell won't be blabbing to anybody."

Seamus waved him out of the barn with a nervous look, and Arthur let himself be shooed.

Outside, he realized that he had probably finished his business before Kieran had finished his shopping. He took Beatrice down to the stable and stood at the door long enough to hear Kieran and the stablemaster in the middle of an absolutely _riveting_ conversation about different kinds of horsebits, then left again with a shake of his head. Kieran and horses, horses and Kieran...

The sun was already glowing low and golden towards the horizon, and Arthur thought about where to camp as he let Beatrice graze under him. There was a little spot somewhere nearby, far enough off the road to be private, but not so far as to be out of their way. He had just remembered the way there when Kieran rode up, grinning. Branwen sported a brand new bridle, a flashy thing that made Arthur give a low whistle.

"Well! You been spending some of that cash, I see!"

"It's worth it for good tack." said Kieran resolutely. "About the only thing that's worth spending money on, in my opinion."

Arthur eyed him doubtfully. "I don't know...I reckon I can think of a few more things than that. Anyway, let's get on towards camp. There's a spot I'm thinking of, should be pretty comfortable."

Kieran followed him without complaint, and they were soon there. As usual, Kieran tended to the horses almost automatically while Arthur built a fire.

When he was done with the horses, Kieran came and sat across from him, accepting the roasted turkey he held out with a nod of thanks. Arthur busied himself with his journal then. He wrote some notes about the job they'd run, and how much money they'd made...and then found himself sketching, looking up occasionally to reference a line.

Kieran caught one of his glances after a time. "Uh, Arthur? Are you...?"

Arthur blushed. He never shared his journal with anyone. But if he'd been caught, well...

He shyly held out the journal for Kieran to see the sketch of himself. It was embarassing, really--he'd drawn the lines of Kieran's face far too soft, too affectionately. It looked like something that belonged in a lover's locket, Arthur thought to himself.

But Kieran didn't mention it, just stared wide-eyed at the picture of himself. "Well! Wow! Is that- that's me, ain't it?"

"Course it is." Arthur grunted. "Ain't you got a mirror?"

"Don't use one that often." said Kieran, still looking at the picture in fascination. "That's- you're really good, Arthur! Do you...do you draw other things? Other people?"

Arthur _never_ shared his journal with anyone. Ever.

He jerked his chin at Kieran, who immediately scrambled to his feet and rushed to Arthur's side of the fire to plop down next to him. Arthur held the journal out between them, and tried to ignore the way Kieran's arm pressed against his as he leaned close to see. He flipped a page back to show Kieran a sketch of oleander flowers and three different types of heron he'd hunted recently in the swamps.

"Wow...the way you draw it, it looks almost real, like they'd fly away..." his fingers hovered, not quite touching the page, as though he might frighten the herons into flight. "Your handwriting is beautiful, too."

"Aw..." Arthur blushed and tried to change the subject. "You can't even read it though, can you?"

Kieran shook his head, and Arthur watched a lock of hair drift over his face, felt himself wanting to reach out and tuck it away for him. "Mary Beth said she might teach me."

Arthur was annoyed at the thought of Kieran spending time with--getting close to!--pretty Mary Beth. "Ah, leave her be, she's busy enough around camp. Hell, I can teach you myself. It ain't that hard once you know the letters."

"Really?" Kieran looked at him in surprise, and Arthur was blushing _again_ , dammit--

"Sure! Even Jack knows how, don't he? Here, I'll show you something."

He flipped back towards the front of the journal and stopped on a page next to an illustration of a shotgun. He pointed at a word halfway down the page.

"There, look, that's your name there. Kieran, K-I-E-R-A-N. I'll teach you to write it."

But Kieran wasn't paying attention to the letters. "What- what were you writing about _me_ for?" he asked, eyes wide.

Arthur chuckled. "Well, that's the day you saved my life. Don't happen that often, y'know, people saving me. I made a note of it."

"Wow." Kieran looked at the page with a squint, like he could learn to interpret the letters if he just looked at them hard enough. 

Something occurred to Arthur. "Say, Kieran--and tell me truthful, now, I won't be getting mad--did you really mean to save my life that day? Or were you just trying to save yourself? Ingratiate yourself, I mean?"

Arthur could feel Kieran shrug slightly. "Gee...it happened so fast, I didn't have much of a chance to think...I guess I was just trying to save your life, then." He continued in a lowered voice. "...but I was glad right after I did it, cause I knew you'd be grateful."

"Well, that's alright." said Arthur. He gave Kieran a small pat on the arm. "A man's got to think of his own survival, after all."

He was suddenly aware of how close they were-- shoulders pressed together as they leaned over the journal, his hand on Kieran's arm. This was normal, wasn't it? Two men sitting close like this? Surely it was, they had to be close so they could look at the journal together... the journal Arthur had never shown to another human being. 

Perfectly normal.

"It's getting pretty late." said Arthur, reluctantly. They couldn't stay like that forever, much as he found himself wanting to; they needed sleep before the job tomorrow. 

"Alright." Kieran agreed, with a yawn. He slowly got himself up and walked back to his bedroll on the other side of the fire.

"Goodnight, Arthur." came his voice from the dark. 

Arthur paused as he went into his tent. 

"Night, Kieran."

\- ...-

Arthur woke suddenly, aware of a figure at the opening of his tent. His hand was inching for his knife, when--

"Arthur?"

Groggily, Arthur recognized Kieran's voice and relaxed.

"Mmm?"

"Um...I been hearing thunder, Arthur." Why in the hell was Kieran waking him up to tell him this? Surely he wasn't scared of a little thunder and lightning.

"I don't really wanna get rained on..." Kieran continued, in the softest whisper. "Can I... can I sleep with you?"

Oh.

Arthur moved himself over to make room, still not really registering what was happening as Kieran lay down beside him. 

Until, that is, Kieran's warm hand was slipping into the front of his jeans, skilled fingers wrapping easily around his cock and giving a practiced, gentle squeeze that had him hard in an instant and jolted him awake. He reached down and clamped his hand around Kieran's wrist. 

"What the hell are you doing, boy?" His voice was too loud in the silent tent, the roughness of sleep harshening it to to a growl.

Kieran tried to squirm away.

"I- I'm sorry! I just-- I- I thought you wanted--"

Arthur rolled over and reached out to hold Kieran's face with his free hand, not letting go of his wrist. Kieran grew still, his eyes wide and shining in the dim moonlight filtering through the canvas around them.

"Course I want you to." Arthur whispered hoarsely. "More than-- but I told you, you don't have to do that anymore."

Kieran just looked at him. "I know." he said, simply. "I want to, this time."

Arthur froze, his breath caught in his throat. Was this really alright, was he pushing himself on the boy--

Kieran reached up to cover Arthur's hand on his cheek with his own, turned to press his lips against Arthur's broad palm.

"I trust you, Arthur." He whispered against that palm, and Arthur's breath returned, shaking and uneven.

"Kieran..." Arthur finally leaned forward and kissed him, as deeply as he could while still being gentle. 

He swiftly realized something about his new lover: for all that he was obviously skilled in using his mouth in other ways, he was _terrible_ at kissing. He drew back from Arthur the second time their teeth clacked together, obviously embarrassed.

"Sorry." he mumbled. Arthur shook his head at him.

"Don't be sorry. Ain't no trouble to practice." he added, forcing himself to smile. Skilled at sex but unpracticed at affection--Arthur wanted to hunt down and murder with his own hands every sorry excuse for a man that had ever hurt Kieran.

But, as he said, it certainly was no trouble at all to practice. Arthur knew that personally; he'd never found it hard to be a good lover. Nearly every woman he'd been with had told him in various stages of breathlessness that he was wonderful, so he figured he had a pretty good assessment of his skill. It was easy; he just paid attention to his partners and gave them what they wanted.

And what did Kieran want? Well, he was always shy, so he'd want Arthur's strong arms tightly around him _(he melted against Arthur's chest)_ , and he was uncertain, so he'd want Arthur to be bold in his want of him, whispering "C'mere" in a low growl in his ear and grabbing his ass tightly _(he gasped, his erection throbbing against Arthur's thigh)_ , and he was afraid, so he'd want Arthur to lay beside him instead of over him, and ask permission before undressing him _(he sighed out a "Yes" without a hint of his usual stammer)_.

Easy. Easiest thing in the world, even if Arthur had never been with a man. He pulled off his own clothes and they lay chest to chest, Arthur feeling Kieran breath against him. He kissed him over and over, tangling a hand in his hair, in no hurry to do anything else but lay there together.

Kieran, however, was more impatient than him, grabbing one of Arthur's hands and pulling it down between them. "Here," he whispered against Arthur's mouth, "Let me show you--"

He shifted against Arthur so their hips were level, and guided Arthur's hand to wrap around both of their cocks together, Kieran's fingers sliding over his. Arthur sucked in his breath as Kieran started to rock against him, the movement rubbing them together in his palm, slick with precum. His head seemed to empty more with every thrust of Kieran's hips, every quiet huff of effort and moan of pleasure as he rutted against Arthur. He just kept his hand wrapped tight and let Kieran move against him, over and over, the motion and friction and slippery heat driving him crazy til he finally spilled himself over their entwined fingers with a groan. Kieran's motions grew more frantic. "Arthur," he groaned impatiently, "Ah- _Arthur--_ " and then Arthur was kissing him deeply again, wrapping his free arm around him and squeezing at his ass, kneading the muscle there, pulling Kieran tightly to him until he suddenly shuddered and gasped.

Arthur held him close as their breath gradually slowed. He wanted to speak, to ask Kieran-- to tell him--

But sleep claimed them both too fast, and soon Arthur was lost in odd dreams of a big house, with Mary in the window--a dream he'd suffered many times before, only this time Kieran was there too, standing waiting for him in the yard full of flowers...

\- ...-

Arthur woke slowly the next morning, feeling satisfied. 

More than satisfied; like he had his own personal sun shining down on him, lifting his spirits as he slowly stretched.

His reaching hand found an empty space next to him and he sat up. Kieran always woke up early, didn't he? So there was no need to be uneasy. No need to feel like a cloud had moved in front of that sun he woke up with.

He pulled his clothes back on with a rueful shake of his head at the dried sweat and--other things--against his skin. Sure knew how to make a damn mess, didn't he?

He stepped out of his tent to see Kieran busy with Branwen, as expected--but when he saw Arthur, he suddenly looked away, his face troubled.

Another cloud.

Arthur walked over to tend to Beatrice. It put him right next to Kieran, but the boy was silent for a long time. When he finally spoke, his words pierced Arthur to his core.

"I...I'm sorry. About- about last night." he mumbled, and Arthur turned around to look at him, cupped a hand around his cheek.

"Sorry?" he whispered roughly, searching Kieran's face. "What are you sorry for?"

But Kieran was pulling away from his hand, looking at the ground, and it was obvious his face was about to screw up with tears so Arthur let him go and turned back to Beatrice. Suddenly he was standing in his own personal downpour in the middle of the sunny morning. Hadn't Kieran clutched, and sighed, and whispered Arthur's name in all the right ways last night? Had Arthur somehow...

...misunderstood?

 _You're a damn fool, Morgan._ He scolded himself, roughly. _Why the hell you always want too much? They always just leave you._

He should have known by now.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope y'all enjoy Chapter Five: In Which Arthur Learns To Get Glad Again In Those Same Damn Pants He Got Sad In.

"Arthur?"

Arthur looked up from his thoughts to see Mary Beth looking down at him with worry on her face. "Um, are you alright? You been...kinda down for a few days now. Some of the girls was getting kinda worried about you."

Arthur sighed heavily and leaned back against the wheel of his wagon. He'd barely moved from the spot for days after he and Kieran returned from the last job, just spending his hours looking out over the lake.

"Ah, I'm alright, Mary Beth. Just..." he shook his head, not even bothering to come up with a lie.

She frowned at him. "Have you been to see that Mary Gillis, Arthur? I keep telling you, you oughta just forget about her."

Arthur looked out over the water again, remembering his dream of a big white house, Mary and Kieran waiting for him...he was a damn fool, and Mary Beth was right. But--

"Some things are hard to forget, Mary Beth." he muttered, pulling his hat down over his eyes.

She wouldn't give up, however.

"Arthur Morgan! You had better--well, perk up, or something, cause Miss Grimshaw's gonna be after you soon!" she leaned in close and added in a whisper, "I think she's gonna talk to Dutch, Arthur, since you ain't been choring or bringing in any money or anything for near a week and a half--"

Arthur started. "Week and a half?" he repeated, surprised. 

Mary Beth gave him a look of pity. "Didn't you even know how long it's been? Has she got you that bad, Arthur?"

"I guess 'she' does." Arthur agreed, slowly rising to his feet. He gave her a pat on the shoulder. "Thank you for rousing me, Mary Beth. I know it ain't a pleasant task."

"Of course, Arthur. We rely on you, y'know. All of us."

Arthur sighed, and composed himself enough to give her a reassuring look. "I know you do. I'll get back to work, don't you worry."

Mary Beth smiled at him uncertainly, and left to go back to her own work with the other girls.

Arthur gave himself a shake. His malaise of the last few days (week and a half!) seemed to have settled into his bones, making the thought of setting out on his horse to rob somebody...just tiring.

Well, he had to get started somehow, and it was too late in the afternoon to do anything til tomorrow, anyway. Might as well work on freshening his supplies. He'd finished fletching arrows before his last trip out, but he still had a pile of bullets he'd meant to score.

He grabbed them from the back of his wagon and quickly surveyed the camp. He didn't like to do chores by the cookfire, and nearly everywhere else he might sit was crowded with folk he couldn't seem to stomach the thought of talking to at the moment. That left...

He headed over to the scout fire with a heavy tread. Maybe Kieran would somehow just--not be over there, for once.

No such luck. Kieran was immediately watching Arthur from over Branwen's back as he came and sat down.

Arthur ignored him as best he could and started working on the bullets, marking a careful X in each one with his knife, to help them fly true towards whatever poor sap he next aimed his gun at.

Soft footsteps crept up beside him, and Arthur kept his eyes on his work.

"Uh, Arthur?"

Still kept his head down. "What, Kieran?"

"I- I'm sorry." Kieran spoke in an awkward half-whisper, not wanting to be overheard.

"Sorry for what?" Arthur grunted roughly, and then the reminder of that morning was too much. He stilled his hands and turned sharply to look at Kieran, who flinched away and looked at the ground.

"Um...I mean...I guess you been, uh, distracted since..." he trailed off, his face turning pink.

_You think you distract me, boy?_

Arthur suddenly threw his knife into the ground at his feet with a flick of his wrist, trying to banish the memory but only succeeding in making Kieran flinch away again.

 _Clumsy, Morgan! You're always too damn rough._ He scolded himself. He grabbed his knife and quickly stood, eager to get away before he made things worse, somehow. As he usually did.

"Got to get some sleep before I ride tomorrow." he said lamely, in excuse. Kieran just looked at the pile of bullets Arthur had barely started on, wringing his hands and obviously aggravated, wanting to say more--but there were too many people potentially in earshot.

"You ride too." The words slipped out of Arthur's mouth before he realized they were going to, and Kieran looked up in surprise.

"Huh? Ride- ride where?" he asked, confused.

Arthur didn't have an answer--he still didn't know where he planned on going. "Look, just be saddled up tomorrow." he growled.

He ignored Kieran's put-out look and quiet " _Arthur!_ " called after him, and stalked back to his wagon. Sleep would be a long time coming, might as well get started on the effort.

\- ...-

Arthur awoke early from fitful dreams he chose not to remember. He got himself up with a groan--his sleep had not been restful. Still, he apparently needed to start doing more to keep up appearances, according to Mary Beth. 

He splashed some cold water in his face and shaved (something else he'd been neglecting for some time) but didn't feel any more awake. He looked around camp for some chores to do.

As was customary by now, however, Kieran had gotten up even earlier than he had and finished nearly everything but the pile of wood waiting to be split. Wielding the axe was pure, slow, drudgery, and Arthur started to understand how much he'd let himself go. Just a week and a half; how could laziness have set itself into his bones already?

He looked over towards Flat Iron Lake, and made a sudden decision. He started pulling off his clothes as he walked swiftly towards the water, until he was in just his jeans when he reached the edge. Then, he just kept walking--knee deep, waist deep, and finally almost floating, his toes barely touching the bottom. He just stayed there, surrounded by flat, still water and the reflection of bright sunlight, feeling weightless and, for once, under no pressure to perform or even think. He let himself drift.

But it couldn't last--soon he heard his own name called from the shore and reluctantly began to paddle back, pushing through the water with swift strokes until he was standing on the beach again, sides heaving as he panted with exertion. The river was bathwater-warm and the sun was already making him steam, so it wasn't exactly _refreshing_ , but his muscles at least felt awake and ready to be used now.

He looked up to see Kieran glaring at him almost resentfully. "Are you ready to go? I've got Beatrice saddled for you already, she's getting restless."

He didn't even wait for Arthur's answer, just turned and walked back to the horses.

Arthur shook his head, using his hands to squeegee the excess water from his limbs as he made his way back over to his clothes. He dressed himself quickly, ignoring the way the fabric clung uncomfortably to his wet skin. He'd be glad of it in a few hours when the sun got high, he knew.

And then there was no putting off going to meet Kieran. He was waiting on the back of Branwen, holding Beatrice's reins and pointedly not looking at Arthur. Well, if he wasn't willing to talk they could just ride in silence. Arthur didn't have much to say, anyway.

They passed by Karen out on watch this time, yawning and squinting. "Whassamatter, boys?" she called sleepily as they rode past her in a palpable silence. "Lover's quarrel?"

She guffawed to herself as Kieran turned red and hurried up the trail, looking aggravated. Arthur followed quickly, ignoring Karen best he could.

Kieran rode ahead of him until they came to the first crossroads, where he pulled Branwen up and called to Arthur without looking back.

"Which way?"

Arthur hadn't thought about it yet, and the anger in Kieran's voice, in every line of his stiff posture, was distracting him.

"Uh...east." he finally answered, after a too-long silence. Kieran started to look back at him, but turned forward again without meeting his eye and spurred Branwen on again.

Arthur tried desperately to think of something to ease the tension and was unable to come up with a single word to say, so they rode on in silence til the next crossroad.

Kieran stopped Branwen and waited.

"North." said Arthur, picking a direction at random. So north they went.

They continued that way for hours, Arthur picking random directions (mostly east, away from any O'Driscolls, and north, away from camp).

The land beside the road they travelled began to grow waterlogged as they headed deeper into the swamps, towards Bluewater Marsh. The croaking and splashing of unseen creatures was soon all around them, the flutter of a heron taking flight suddenly reminding Arthur of the night he'd shown the sketches in his journal to Kieran...

Lost in thought, he nearly let Beatrice run into the back of Branwen and had to draw her up.

"Woah, woah, easy there, girl!" She whinnied at him in equine annoyance and settled herself after a moment. Arthur looked up to see that Kieran had suddenly stopped in the middle of the road.

"Where we going?" he asked Arthur flatly, not turning around.

"On a job, I told you that."

"No, we ain't. Hosea didn't give you any papers this time, I heard him say he wanted to wait a while before running that scam again."

Arthur shrugged, although Kieran wasn't looking at him. "Well, we're running some other job."

"No, we ain't. You been picking random directions all day, and now we're in the middle of the damn swamp." He finally turned on his horse, and Arthur suddenly realized on seeing his face that he wasn't just angry--he was afraid. "We ain't running a horse scam, and you don't have any other job planned, you just- you just got angry at me and then brought me out here alone-- _where are you taking me?_ "

"Aw, Kieran, no--" Arthur jumped off of Beatrice, horrified. Kieran thought--hell, Arthur didn't know. It half-sounded like he thought Arthur had brought him out to the swamp to kill him, but surely--

He quickly ran to Branwen's stirrup and looked up at Kieran. "I'm sorry, Kieran, I didn't mean--I just- I just wanted to talk to you."

"We were talking! I tried to talk to you last night, but you just--" Kieran imitated Arthur throwing his knife in the ground. "--and stormed off! So why we gotta talk in the swamp?"

"We don't! I just- dammit, I just don't know how to _not_ make a damn mess of things, I guess!" He rubbed the bridge of his nose with a sigh. "I just...wanted to talk to you where we could speak--freely, y'know? Away from everyone else."

Kieran snorted. "Well, we're away from everyone, that's for sure...where are we, anyway?"

He and Arthur looked around their surroundings, both suddenly realizing how deep in the marsh they were--and how low and red the sun was getting. The chirps and croaks and squeals around them were getting louder as the light grew dimmer. 

"Um, Arthur...is it safe out here?" Kieran asked nervously.

"Not strictly, no." Arthur muttered. "There's Night Folk about this area."

Kieran stared at him, wide-eyed. "N- Night Folk? Who- who the hell are they?"

"I'm not entirely sure, to be honest--and let's not try to find out, shall we?" He quickly walked back to Beatrice. "Follow me, I know a safe place near here."

He quickly spurred Beatrice on as Kieran followed. Arthur was cursing himself--why the hell hadn't he just paid attention to where they were going? He could have taken Kieran to St. Denis and they'd be sitting comfortably in the corner of some seedy saloon right now, instead of flying through a damn swamp by the last light of day.

Arthur led Kieran as quickly as could to a small, stilted house in the marsh.

"Hurry up and get them horses situated--and stay out of the yard, I don't know if all the nitroglycerin's been blown!"

Kieran stopped in the middle of sliding off of Branwen's back. "...the what?"

"Dynamite, boy! Be careful!"

"Dynamite?! Arthur--"

"Look, just stay on the path and you'll be fine. This is old Black Belle's place, she had the whole thing rigged up like the damn 4th of July. We blew most of it when a pack of bounty hunters came after her, far as I know, but just-- be careful to stay on the path!"

Kieran gaped at him for a moment, then was startled back into movement by the awful sound of-- _something_ \--squealing its last out in the swamp. Arthur slid off of Beatrice's back and helped Kieran with the horses this time, not wanting to leave him alone outside. Soon they were jogging up the path together and into the dark little house, just enough moonlight coming in to dimly see by.

Arthur quickly checked the inside of the house--but as he'd suspected, it was undisturbed. Any scavengers in the area--human or otherwise--had left this place alone.

"We should be safe enough here." he told Kieran. "But all the same, I think we should go without a fire or lantern. No need to advertise our presence."

He could just barely see Kieran shrug. 

"Alright, well...we're alone then, I guess. What did you wanna talk about?"

Arthur stared at him in the dark. "What did I wanna talk about?! You know what I wanna talk about! What the hell happened?"

"W- What do you mean?"

Arthur reminded himself to be gentle, not to raise his voice. "Look, you come sneaking into my tent with some bullshit line about 'I hear thunder', you let me hold you, let me-- and then you don't want anything to do with me the next day! You said..."

Arthur had to resist a childish urge to pull his hat down over his eyes so Kieran couldn't see his face. "You said you trusted me." he continued, his voice low.

Kieran shifted uncomfortably. "I do, Arthur. I mean...I trust you not to _hurt_ me."

"No more than that?" And then Arthur was kicking himself. "No, no, that's cruel of me. I can't just demand trust of you...after all you been through. And especially after all I done today, I guess."

Kieran sighed. "I ain't really mad about it anymore, Arthur. We're safe here. But, as for...well, I know you liked _looking_ at me, but I just didn't know if you really...liked..." he trailed off.

"Mary Beth is pretty, ain't she?" Arthur asked.

"Huh?" 

"Mary Beth. She's pretty; I sure like looking at her. You ever seen her crawling out of my cot in the morning?"

"No, but--"

"Tilly's pretty, too. And Karen--hell, plenty of men have tried to buy it just to find it's not for sale! You ever seen any of them with me?"

"No." Kieran was starting to understand, but he still sighed and looked at the floor, obviously searching for words. Arthur waited.

"Look, Arthur...it's just...plenty of men I've been with--and Colm might have been the meanest but he weren't the first--plenty were glad enough for my company at midnight, but come to find out not a single one of them needed me around in the morning, y'know."

Arthur finally crossed the room, dared to reach out to touch Kieran's face.

"I need you around, Kieran." he whispered. "Maybe not just in the morning, but all the time now."

Kieran just looked at him, eyes wide in the moonlight.

"And it ain't right of me to demand your trust, but--can you try to believe me?"

Kieran kept looking at him, and slowly raised his hand to cover Arthur's on his cheek, slowly started to turn, to press his lips against Arthur's palm like he had that night--

A godawful scream rose from the swamps, making the horses squeal and chilling both men to the bone.

Arthur let go of Kieran and raced to the window.

"Don't see nothing--horses are alright. Must be off in the trees."

Behind him, Kieran shuddered. "Arthur, can we just go to bed?" he pleaded.

Arthur nodded. "I guess old Belle's bunk will do for us."

He prepared it quickly with their blankets, then sat on the edge of it to take his shoes off before he layed himself down. Kieran followed suit, curling up beside Arthur, not quite touching.

Until another scream ripped through the swamp---

Kieran pressed himself tightly against Arthur's chest with a whimper, and Arthur wrapped his arms around him. Not exactly the reunion he'd hoped for...but at least they seemed to be together, in some way, once more.

\- ...-

Arthur awoke to something--some _one_ \--squirming in his arms.

"Lemme up, Arthur! I gotta piss, and I'm hungry!"

Arthur's arms were still heavy around Kieran, keeping him pinned. He released him with a sleepy groan and rolled over, yawning, as Kieran jumped out of bed and ran outside. 

He was soon back, the wooden bed frame creaking as he climbed in next to Arthur. 

"Horses are alright." he said quietly. "And I hope you don't mind, but I grabbed some fruit from your bag. We never did eat dinner last night."

"Mmmph."

Kieran chuckled at him. "You're gonna miss breakfast, y'know."

Arthur rolled back towards him and cracked one eye open. Kieran was sitting up next to him, smirking and holding--

A peach. A ripe, juicy, delicious looking peach that he took a bite of while looking straight at Arthur, chewing slowly and letting the juice run down his chin onto his neck. 

Arthur suddenly remembered watching Kieran drinking milk, seeing it run down his neck and wondering if it would taste as sweet if Arthur were to--

Kieran swallowed heavily and took another bite, holding the piece in his lips and just looking at Arthur. 

It seems he had permission this time. 

Arthur surged up from the bed and covered Kieran's mouth with his own, sucking the peach from between his lips and then kissing him deeply, using his tongue to lick every trace of syrup from the inside of his mouth, and then moving down his neck, lapping at the stripe of juice there. Kieran just let him for a few moments, then gently pushed him away, putting a finger to Arthur's lips to still him. 

"Arthur, please." he said, almost primly. "I'm hungry."

And with that he took a bite, chewing it himself this time while Arthur watched, tilting his head back when he swallowed so Arthur could see his throat move. Then another bite, held between the lips, and he released Arthur. 

Another deep kiss, more of the taste of Kieran and peach syrup, Arthur dragging his tongue slowly up the pale column of Kieran's throat.

And then a finger on his lips was stopping him, pushing him away, and he was panting this time as he watched Kieran slowly, deliberately, take a bite for himself, feeling his cock starting to swell to fill out his jeans.

Another bite for Arthur, and he tangled his hand in Kieran's hair as he kissed him, trying somehow to get closer. Kieran tossed what was left of the peach on the floor and wrapped his arms around Arthur, kissing him back with a skill he'd picked up quickly.

He sighed as Arthur started to kiss his way down his neck again, this time continuing down towards his chest, stopping to lick up a few drops of syrup that had gathered in the hollow between his clavicles.

Arthur grabbed at the hem of Kieran's shirt and stopped himself, remembering to ask permission. 

"This alright?" he whispered, his voice hoarse. Kieran nodded and lifted his arms so Arthur could pull it off him easily, and then Arthur was kissing his way down his chest, down his fluttering belly.

Arthur paused again when he reached the Kieran's waistband. "Still alright?" he asked.

"Yes." Kieran sighed, and Arthur tugged his pants down and off, letting Kieran's erection spring free. Arthur gazed at it for a moment--he'd seen it before, but only in the dark, and now he just looked. It was as long his own, but slimmer, curving slightly to the left. Arthur stroked his fingers over it to hear Kieran gasp as he kissed the curve of his hip.

Arthur remembered the favor Kieran had to tried to do for him, considered the hard cock twitching right next to his mouth.

Arthur could learn new things, too, couldn't he? It was easy.

He lapped lightly at the head, almost surprised to find the bead of precum gathering at the tip was salty instead of sweet. Encouraged by Kieran's moan of " _Ohh, Arthur_ " somewhere above him, he tried taking it into his mouth.

It was _not_ easy.

Arthur's jaw felt strained almost immediately, and it was too difficult to remember how he should move his head while also trying to keep his teeth covered. He tried to use his tongue, but it was tricky considering there was an entire cock in his mouth taking up far too much room--

Kieran giggled at him. "Arthur, you are _terrible_ at that!"

Not exactly the reaction he hoped for. He pulled his mouth off with a wet _pop_ , and tried to give Kieran a stern look, which only made him laugh more.

"Oh, Arthur--you want me to show you?" He was stroking his fingers through Arthur's hair, and for a split second Arthur thought he was going to grab Arthur's head and push him down, show him forcefully--the thought made his cock twitch, but Kieran wasn't so bold, of course.

Instead he was tugging at Arthur's shoulders, getting him to lay against the pillows again while Kieran traded places with him. Almost business-like, Kieran didn't bother to undress him at all, but only opened his jeans and immediately started sucking his cock.

Arthur threw his head back with a half-shout. Kieran was good at this, Kieran was _too_ good at this, bobbing his head farther and farther down until Arthur could feel himself hitting the back of his throat--and then somehow further, Kieran breathing out noisily and pushing himself down on Arthur until his nose was pressed against his belly.

Arthur tried to breathe deeply, but it was already taking every ounce of control to keep his hips still and not thrust up into Kieran's mouth. He tried to stare at the ceiling, tried to count to 10, anything to make this last longer--but soon found himself giving up with a groan, shooting his load down Kieran's throat, who swallowed around him over and over, milking the last drop from his cock.

Arthur was left heaving as Kieran finally pulled back and lay beside him again, licking his lips like the cat that got the cream. Arthur reached up to cup his cheek, and shuddered as Kieran kissed his palm, rather wetly.

"Damn!" he said finally, when he could speak again at all. Kieran smirked at him, looking proud of himself.

But Arthur was determined to return the favor. "That can't be so hard to learn." he muttered, as Kieran rolled his eyes.

"Don't worry about it, Arthur. You can use your hands for me like I showed you last time--"

Arthur ignored him and started kissing down his chest and belly again. "Fair's fair." he mumbled.

"Fair--Arthur, I don't think that's got anything to do with it." said Kieran, wrinkling his nose at him.

Arthur looked up him. "I want to." he said, simply, and Kieran sucked in his breath.

"Well..."

Arthur tried again, keeping his lips covering his teeth and remembering this time to bob his head as Kieran had done, feeling his cock slide over his tongue over and over.

Kieran moaned softly instead of laughing this time, running his hands through Arthur's hair--but still letting him move at his own pace.

Impatient and wanting more, Arthur pulled his head back. " _Show_ me." he growled, tugging at Kieran's wrists. " _Pull_ me--" and then he ducked down again, pushing himself as far as he could go (not very far) but finally, _finally_ feeling Kieran start to tug his head down, start to thrust up lightly with his hips, knowing what Arthur wanted this time.

It was difficult, still--he tried to breath out as he'd heard Kieran do, but still gagged when he felt the head of Kieran's cock against the back of his throat. Tears coming to his eyes, he forced himself to stay there, letting Kieran buck up roughly into his mouth, hearing him moan his name over and over.

"Arthur, Arthur, _Arthur_ \--" like it was the chorus of a song, one Arthur wanted to hear for the rest of eternity. Then he was forcing Arthur's head further down onto himself, and Arthur had to hold his breath as felt Kieran's cock actually enter his throat, burning like hell. It was thankfully only a moment later when he felt a gush of hot liquid spilling into him, trying to swallow as Kieran had but only gagging more, still holding himself there as long as he could.

After a long moment, Kieran released his grip on Arthur's hair and let his hips fall back to the bed. Arthur coughed hoarsely and scrubbed at the tears running down his face.

"Oh, Arthur..." whispered Kieran, sounding guilty. He reached down and wiped at the tears himself, gently. Arthur let him, feeling his calloused thumb swiping over his cheeks. He reached up to grab Kieran's hand, and kissed his palm while finally looking up to meet Kieran's eyes.

They just looked at each other for a long moment.

"You're a damn mess, Arthur." said Kieran, almost lovingly.

Arthur smiled at him. "Oh, I always make a mess of things. It's what I do best."


	6. Chapter 6

Arthur woke slowly, stretching lazily. He'd gone back to sleep after "breakfast" with Kieran, and for once had had no dreams at all. As a result, he felt more refreshed, more awake, than it felt like he had been in weeks. He glanced around the interior of Canebreak Manor, Black Belle's old place. While it was mostly bare inside, there were still several pieces of worn wooden furniture, a few forgotten belongings on shelves, a couple of decorations on the walls--and Kieran, barechested in the sunlight streaming in through the window he was gazing out of. He seemed to sense that Arthur was awake and turned around.

"Well, good morning again! I thought you were gonna sleep til noon."

Arthur gave him a grin. "Well, you did wear me out pretty good."

Kieran blushed at that. "Well..." he mumbled, turning to look out the window again. He quickly turned back, however. 

"Say, Arthur, did you bring any food with you besides that fruit in your bag? I'm still pretty hungry."

Arthur swung himself out of bed, ignoring Kieran's gasp and prim "Arthur Morgan!" at his nakedness. He crossed the room and wrapped his arms around Kieran, lightly tapping his fingers along still too-prominent ribs, making him laugh and squirm away. 

"You seen it before, ain'tcha?" He said, laughing at Kieran's modesty. "And we do need to feed you more--but I confess I didn't pack for this trip very well. There's good fishing near here, though-- what you say we catch us some catfish?"

Kieran's face fell slightly. "I didn't bring my pole..."

"Well, that's alright." answered Arthur. "You can take mine since you're the better fisherman anyway. How's about you catch 'em and I cook 'em, huh?"

"That's fine, but--will you get dressed, please?"

Arthur laughed and threw his arms out wide. "Why? You see anyone else here? Think someone's gonna come spy through the window?"

"Not with a yard full of dynamite, they ain't." Kieran muttered.

Arthur had a wicked idea. "Look, Kieran, I'm gonna go grab my pole, okay?"

And with that he was heading towards the door.

" _Arthur Morgan you are not gonna walk outside like that--_ "

"Ah, I'm just playing with you, calm down! I wouldn't really go outside like this." Arthur stopped just inside the doorframe and heard Kieran sigh in relief--at least until Arthur gave him a wink over his shoulder.

"Couldn't possibly without my hat!" And with that, he grabbed it from where it had been discarded on the floor last night and jammed it on his head as he walked right out the door, naked as the day he was born.

As he'd already known, the marsh was completely deserted outside. He walked down to the horses with a jaunty whistle and an exaggerated swagger, knowing Kieran was watching from behind. He made a show of patting both of the horses in turn, then had himself a leisurely, full-body stretch that earned him an audible " _Arthur Morgan!_ " hissed from the porch.

He finally grabbed his fishing pole and sauntered back to the house, where Kieran was nearly apoplectic in the doorway.

He slapped Arthur on the shoulder as soon as was in reach.

"Arthur Morgan, you need to go to confession, walking around like that! And in broad daylight!"

Arthur chuckled and rubbed his shoulder--Kieran hit harder than he thought. "Ain't nobody around-- 'sides, I ain't Catholic."

"Well, maybe confession would do you some good, anyway!" He pushed Arthur into the house, his face scarlet up to the tops of his ears.

"Alright, alright, _Father_ Duffy, I'll get outta sight of decent folk and back into my pants."

"Arthur, that's sacrilegious!"

"And you're sanctimonious!" Arthur was still laughing. "And what's this you're saying about how _I_ need to go to confession? You were doing some sinnin' this morning yourself, as I recall--"

Kieran cut him off in a hurry. "I'm gonna go fishing now, get dressed!" Arthur hadn't thought it was possible for Kieran to get any redder, but he somehow managed it as he walked out the door in a rush. 

Then he paused, and called back over his shoulder, "And- and anyway, the Bible says sodomy's a sin--not cocksucking!"

And with that he was running down the path as Arthur guffawed behind him.

\- ...-

They were back on the road soon after that--as Arthur had suspected, Kieran had already caught one fat fish for them by the time Arthur got dressed and met him on shore with the horses, and landed a second by the time the first was done cooking.

After Kieran declared himself sufficiently stuffed, they were on their way.

"So, where we headed, Arthur? You do have a plan this time, don't you?"

"Oh, of course! We gotta bring some money back with us--so you're gonna help me go robbin' in St. Denis."

Kieran's eyes widened. "St. Denis? Really? I never been-- b- but isn't that dangerous? I thought there were a lot of lawmen in a big city like that--"

"Oh, there are! But I don't plan to get us caught, y'know."

Kieran looked uncertain. "Uh, what do you plan to do, then?"

"Simple. There's plenty of rich houses in the place to take our pick of--you're gonna help me scope out one that'll be easy to hit and get away quick. You're less suspicious-looking than me, you should get away with it pretty easy. Tell some lie about looking for work if you get caught snooping."

Arthur looked at Kieran with a critical eye. "Course, we're gonna have to stop by the tailor's, first. No respectable house'd tolerate you anywhere near their yard in those rags."

Kieran looked down at his clothes. "Miss Grimshaw gave me these--my old clothes were too damn hot for down here."

"Huh. That might be Mac's old jacket, now that I consider it. In any case, Mac didn't dress appropriate for St. Denis, either."

Kieran looked over at Arthur's outfit--a slightly ostentatious red and black number, matching from head to toe, with a long shotgun coat and fancy hat. "Is that where you bought your clothes from, then? St. Denis?"

Arthur chuckled. "You better believe it. The bumpkins over in Rhodes were quite impressed, let me tell you. Course, we're gonna have to get you something a bit less flashy, since you're trying not to draw attention."

"Oh, that's fine by me. I don't need to be dressin' fancy, anyway." Kieran agreed easily.

As they approached the city outskirts, Arthur thought of something. "Look, I'd rather we not look like a pair of thieves if we can help it--so while we're in the city, you're my nephew, okay?"

Kieran rolled his eyes slightly. "Okay, _Uncle_ Arthur."

"With slightly less sarcasm when we're in front of people, alright?"

"Alright, Uncle." Kieran muttered. He was soon distracted, however--Arthur had thought the tall buildings might impress him, but of course it was all the fancy carriages and thoroughbreds that had his eyes falling out of his head.

"Oh, Arthur--lookit that one!" He kept whispering, and Arthur was glad he at least had the manners not to point. He looked ridiculously out of place in his worn blue coat and straw hat--had Arthur looked like that on his first trip to the city?

He was afraid he knew the answer.

They were downstairs from the tailor shop soon enough, and walked upstairs after hitching up Beatrice and Branwen. Kieran, thankfully, lost all interest in sightseeing as soon as they were out of sight of the street and horses, and hurried after Arthur, sticking close by him in the sparse crowd.

Arthur ushered him into the shop, the noise of the street fading into silence as the door closed behind them. Arthur always felt the amount of fabric absorbing sound in the shop gave it a slightly muffled feel. 

"Back again?" called the shopkeeper. He remembered Arthur-- with the amount of money he'd spent there, he damn well should. He hurried around the counter. 

"Ah, I see the young man needs a fitting." He wrinkled his nose at Kieran's threadbare jacket. 

"Yeah, got charge of my sister's boy today." drawled Arthur, clapping Kieran on the shoulder. "Figured I'd help him be less of an embarrassment to himself while he's here with me in the city."

"How kind of you, sir, to care for your nephew so." Kieran was turning red while the shopkeeper ignored him and spoke directly to Arthur. "You are lucky to have brought him to my shop, sir, we shall have him presentable within the hour, I promise you."

With that, he ushered Kieran over to the counter and started pulling out a measuring tape. 

"And what size is the the young man...?" He murmured to himself, starting to wield the tape against a bemused Kieran. 

Arthur chuckled as he watched. "Ah, nothin' too fancy, now. Don't want the boy getting too big for his britches, y'know."

"Oh, of course, sir, of course, I know exactly what you're looking for!"

A half hour later, they were walking back out again. Kieran was now dressed in neat gray pants and white shirt, a blue jacket that was plainly styled but impeccably fitted, and, of course, a new hat (felted, not straw) and new riding boots. The price of it all had made Kieran's eyes bulge, but the boots were the only thing Arthur had spent any real money on-- they were the most important part when you spent your days on the back of a horse, after all. 

He gave Kieran a slap on the back as they walked back downstairs. "Leave the horses hitched for now-- we're just walking around the corner to the barber's."

"Oh, Arthur, no! I just barely managed to grow it back in!" Kieran protested.

"Sorry, boy, but you're trying to look innocent in case you get caught. Worked well for you at the stable in Strawberry, didn't it? Hell, maybe you'll get invited right inside again here!"

Kieran did not look convinced, but he followed Arthur to the barber and was soon clean shaven and pomaded.

He heaved a very noisy sigh once they were back on the street. "Can we at least get something to eat? Lunch is wearing awful thin."

"That's fine, we'll stop at the saloon. You could use a bath anyway--we both probably could, honestly, but I don't want to lose too much time before we get to work."

Over at the saloon, Arthur drank himself a couple of whiskeys while Kieran had a bath, and made sure to order in time for the food to be ready when he came back downstairs, clean and red-faced.

"Arthur!" he hissed, as he hurried to sit at the table with him. "Did you know that there are- are- 'ladies' upstairs who try to bathe you--"

Arthur roared with laughter at that, causing a few of the more genteel patrons to turn and frown at him. He calmed himself down, and had to wipe a tear from his eye. "It's alright, Kieran, them 'ladies' won't bother you unless you pay 'em!"

Kieran looked downright scandalized, and Arthur had to choke back laughter again.

Thankfully their food was ready then, providing a distraction. Arthur grabbed the two bowls from the bartender and brought them back to the table. He set one down in front of Kieran, who looked at it suspiciously.

"...what is it?"

"Lobster bisque. Eat up." said Arthur, grabbing his spoon. He was surprised to see Kieran wrinkle his nose.

"Ugh, lobster? You eat that?"

"When I'm in a fancy place like this, I do. What are you talking about?"

"What are _you_ talking about? _Fancy?_ Look, I may not remember much of my mammy, but I do remember her saying that she'd never let another family she worked for feed her lobster ever again. Wasn't fit for prisoners, she said."

Arthur just stared. "Look, I don't know anything about your mammy or about prisoners--just try it, will you?"

Kieran took a very hesitant, tiny sip--and then was gulping it down, apparently changing his mind about lobster very quickly indeed.

"Here, slow down, now. It's awful rich--"

Twenty minutes later they were in the alley next to the saloon, Arthur smoking a cigarette at one end to give Kieran some privacy while he puked his guts up at the other.

"Told you it was rich." Arthur muttered under his breath, shaking his head. A flurry of movement and color at the other end of the alley grabbed his attention--a pair of obviously well-to-do ladies were passing by Kieran in their fancy skirts. Arthur could only imagine how they must be wrinkling their noses up, but when Kieran stumbled towards them they stopped.

"Oh, miss, do you have any water, please?"

Arthur could just barely hear one of them say to the other, "Oh, he's not drunk at all, poor thing must be sick--" and then they were fluttering around Kieran, calling for water and stroking his face and asking if he was alright.

Arthur stayed at his end of the alley, hoping Kieran recognized the opportunity.

"Thank you kindly, miss, I- I think I'm not used to this city food. Do- do you know where I could find my uncle? He left me here, said he was going down to--the wharf district, I think..."

"Down by the wharf?" one of the women exclaimed. "Oh, darling, you can't go there, that's--"

That's the red light district, is what she didn't want to say out loud. Arthur grinned to himself. Kieran was doing perfectly.

"You mean your uncle left you to go down _there_? You poor, poor thing, we couldn't possibly let you--do you have a room here?"

"No, my uncle said he'd get one when he came back, but I haven't seen him all afternoon..."

They were clucking over him like mother hens now. 

"Oh, you sweet boy, we can't leave you here all alone..."

Perfect.

One of them took Kieran by the arm and exclaimed in surprise. "Oh, but darling, you're so thin! Doesn't your uncle feed you?"

"He- he's let me go hungry before..."

 _But that was Dutch, not me!_ Arthur had to stop himself from saying it out loud in defense.

"You must come home with us, we'll feed you properly, my dear, on some good food that won't upset your tender stomach like this..."

Arthur gave himself a shake. He could worry about the guilt gnawing at him later--Kieran was in the middle of pulling this con off beautifully.

The two ladies ushered him onto a streetcar, and Arthur was forced to follow at a distance, ducking through alleys to keep it in sight as it drove through the streets on its wire.

As he suspected from the quality of the women's clothing, Kieran was soon being taken into an ostentatious house on one of the wealthier blocks of the city. Arthur shook his head. These rich St. Denis ladies certainly enjoyed themselves some charity...building veteran halls, adopting lost, hungry stable boys...

Well, they'd have Kieran in there for a while, at least. Arthur went back for Beatrice and Branwen, and took them to the park near the house to wait.

Close to nightfall, he saw the two women emerge again, dressed even more fancily than before, and climb into a coach that soon took them away down the street. He waited.

A few minutes later he spotted Kieran, creeping out of the side yard and obviously looking around for him. He gave a small wave and Kieran hurried over.

"Well? Did you get a lead? See where the jewelry was at?"

Kieran kicked at the ground. "Those ladies were nice to me, Arthur. They- they fed me..."

"Is that all you got out of it, then? Some food? Those women have enough to spare, don't you think?" Arthur growled. 

"Well, but Arthur..." Kieran kept looking down. "They were nice...and- and what about the party, besides?"

"What party?" asked Arthur, puzzled.

"The party--the one you just saw them leaving for. They said it's the talk of the town tonight, everyone on the block is going!"

Arthur's eyes widened. "You mean every damn house on this block is gonna be empty tonight?" he said in a low voice, trying to contain his excitement. Kieran nodded in confirmation.

Arthur gave him a clap on the shoulder. "Good work, boy! We'll leave your little angels alone--we've got plenty of other houses to hit. We'll get started as soon as it's dark."

And so they did--Kieran sneaking into the yards first to spot any servants still about, and then serving as lookout while Arthur picked the locks and then had himself a field day inside.

They hit every. single. house. on the block except for the women who had helped Kieran--by the time they rode out every pocket and saddlebag they had was absolutely bulging with jewelry and banknotes.

Arthur insisted they ride straight through the night back to Clemon's Point, afraid of getting caught on the road with the load they were carrying. 

They were both yawning by the time they came up on Charles out on watch. 

"Arthur! Where have you been, man, I thought you were going to go hunting with me!"

"Oh, we've been doing some poaching of our own, Charles. Come peek."

"I never poach." Charles muttered, but he came over and took a look in the saddlebag Arthur gestured to. 

He looked up again, eyes huge. "Arthur! What-- where the hell have you _been_?!"

"St. Denis." Kieran answered for him, grinning slightly. Charles just shook his head, astonished, and waved then into camp. 

Once the horses were tied, Arthur motioned to Kieran to grab the saddlebags and follow him over to the table where Tilly was sitting, nursing a coffee in the first light of dawn. She gave Kieran a questioning look.

"Got your boy some new clothes, I see..." she said with a raised eyebrow. Arthur flushed.

"He ain't my--just look at this, will you?"

And with that, he started emptying his pockets onto the table--gold and silver jewelry, pearls and diamonds and sapphires. Kieran followed suit, dumping the saddlebags out onto the pile.

Tilly jumped up with a small scream. "Oh- oh my god, Arthur, how did you get all that--that's- that's incredible--"

Mary Beth and Abigail were immediately over to investigate, and even Karen was soon out of bed, ooh-ing and aah-ing over the pile.

"Now, girls, remember that's all for the camp!" came Miss Grimshaw's voice from behind them.

"Oh, shut it, Susan!" said Karen. "He's got four strings of pearls, that's enough to spare one, I think--"

"Absolutely not!"

All the shouting soon had Lenny, John, and even Uncle stumbling over.

"Did you rob a damn king on the road, Arthur?" asked John, astonished. 

Arthur gave Kieran a clap on the shoulder. "It was the kid here who got me the lead--what was that act again, Kieran?"

Kieran put on his most pathetic face. "Oh miss, my uncle's left me all alone, can I come home with you?"

Uncle guffawed. "You oughta take this Uncle with you next time, boy, if all I have to do is leave you alone in the city to get this kinda haul--"

"You know it were more work than that, Uncle, certainly more than you've ever lifted a finger to do!" growled Arthur.

Uncle gave him a sudden pained look. "You know my lumbago, Arthur, I can't go house-robbin'--"

"Yeah, you can't do nothing." Arthur muttered with a roll of his eyes. "Where's Hosea? He's gotta help me fence all this, we have to be careful about moving so much stuff at once."

Hosea soon came ambling over with a stretch and a yawn, giving Kieran a quiet "Good job, son." that made him glow with pride. After that, they had to tend to the more mundane tasks of dividing and counting and planning where on earth they could actually sell it all.

Hosea sent them both off to bed when they started miscounting through their yawns. Arthur dared to give a wink to Kieran as they went their seperate ways, making him blush.

Soon enough Arthur was passed out in his cot, dreaming almost happily this time of a big white house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lobster made its transformation from "nasty sea cockroach fit for the poors" to "fancy crustacean delicacy for rich folk" sometime in the 1880s. As the game takes place in 1899, it seemed likely to me that Kieran's working-class parents would have scorned it when he was a little boy, while Arthur pays good money for it in a fancy St. Denis saloon just a few decades later.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for all comments and kudos!! I'm sorry about the pacing-- the last chapter was kinda short but this one's reeeeeally long. Hope y'all enjoy!!!

"And _why_ didn't you rob them too?!"

Arthur was having trouble believing what he was hearing. He'd expected Dutch to be happy about the St. Denis job when he woke up, even impressed by how much Hosea said they should be able to sell it all for.

Dutch was not happy.

"They showed him a kindness, Dutch, and we had enough! We- we didn't need to go after that house too!"

Dutch jabbed a finger at him. "Which means, son, that they know exactly who did it now! They take in some- some _waif_ off the street--" Arthur had never heard "waif" used as a curse word before. "--and then every other house on the block gets hit that night? Come on, Arthur! I taught you better than that!"

It was Arthur's decision to spare the house of the two women who'd taken Kieran in for an afternoon that was fueling Dutch's fire. Arthur had never thought he'd be getting reamed just for _not_ robbing somebody--especially when his pockets had already been laden.

"What's it matter, Dutch? So they know it was him who tipped somebody off--not like they know who he is! They're never gonna see him again anyway...unless you plan on bringing him to St. Denis for something I don't know about?"

Dutch narrowed his eyes and spoke through clenched teeth. "I do not plan to bring that boy anywhere."

"Then what's the problem, Dutch? Those women have never even heard of the Van der Linde Gang, I guarantee--"

"That boy is not a Van der Linde, Arthur!"

"That isn't what I--" Arthur cut himself off, tried to remind himself who he was talking to, tried to get control of his temper.

He failed. "What the hell are you mad at me for, anyway? Micah finds a damn twenty dollar bill by the side of the road and comes crowing into camp about how he's the one feeding us all, I bring you a sack of fucking diamonds and this is the thanks I get for it?!"

Arthur was suddenly aware that his voice was far too loud, the camp far too quiet. Outside Dutch's tent where they were arguing, all activity had ceased.

"I am _concerned_ , Arthur, about the decision you chose to make in St. Denis, one that could possibly put us all in danger--"

"Don't be ridiculous, Dutch! They never even saw us together, they'll never--"

"You were seen together in other parts of the city, weren't you? Buying him clothes, taking him to the damn barber, even--"

Arthur chose to ignore that. He'd had enough.

"Get Micah to bring you your next sack of diamonds, then." he snarled, and then spun on his heel and left Dutch's tent.

"Micah would get it for me _safely_!"

Arthur spat on the ground, disgusted. He looked up to see the round eyes of everyone in camp looking back at him for a moment--then every person was suddenly busy with something that took all their attention.

Arthur stomped over to his wagon and threw himself down on his cot. He was sure that Kieran was having a nervous fit somewhere, but it seemed... impolitic, at the moment, to be seen going to talk to him. Probably would be for a few days, at that.

Arthur just stared up at the canopy over him. Why the hell couldn't he manage to do a damn thing right, lately?

\- ...-

It ended up being weeks, not days, that Arthur felt unsafe being seen talking to Kieran. Most members of the gang had taken to largely ignoring him once they were in Clemen's Point, but after Dutch's outburst the bullying renewed itself to a new, constant level. Sean would threaten or even punch him for how he pronounced Irish words (Arthur had started to come over to intervene after seeing Kieran with a bloody nose one afternoon, but Kieran saw him coming and just shook his head at Arthur to stay away), Bill would alternate between forcing him to drink and pretending he was going to torture him with those damn tongs, Javier was always there at his elbow to hiss that he was unwanted and would kick him awake when he passed by him at night on watch, and Micah--Micah especially seemed to delight in tormenting him. Arthur could never quite make out _what_ , exactly, he would mutter to Kieran as he slipped past him, but whatever it was made Kieran turn a shade of gray that made Arthur sick. Micah was certainly much more open when he talked to the rest of the gang around the fire at night, praising Dutch for his infinite kindness and forgiveness for "--allowing that creature to feed off of us. Why, if it was me, I'd have killed it." At least Hosea had spoken up at that, telling Micah to shut the hell up.

Karen seemed to be one of the few in camp willing to openly decry Kieran's treatment.

"It's bullshit, Arthur. He's one of us, ain't he? Teasing him is one thing, but this is something else. Dutch gonna start letting the rest of us get treated like that if we mess up a job?"

"We didn't mess up that job!" Arthur protested quietly. They were talking behind the girls' wagon, out of sight of most of the camp.

"Well, you did mess up by not setting aside some of those pearls for me. Susan made sure I didn't get so much as an earring, damn her. But you're right that you didn't mess up on getting paid, that's for sure. The way Micah crows, you'd think the two of you came back with a sack of mud!"

Sadie poked her head around the wagon. "You want me to hit 'im for you, Arthur?" she whispered loudly. "I hate that Micah."

Arthur shook his head quickly. "No, that wouldn't be a good idea, Sadie. Micah's the damn golden boy now, it'd just serve to get Dutch angry at you too."

Karen stamped her cigarette out with a sharp twist of her heel. " _You_ used to be the golden boy, Arthur. What the hell happened?"

Arthur just shrugged, at a loss for words.

Sadie huffed in disappointment. "Well, I'll leave him alone then. For you, Arthur, not for Dutch."

She slipped away around the wagon, but poked her head back around after a moment. "Can I punch Sean, though?"

"Be my guest." Arthur muttered. Sadie grinned and disappeared again.

"What a mess, Arthur." sighed Karen. "I don't like O'Driscolls any more than anyone else in this camp, but...the way Dutch is acting lately, I don't know. Starting to feel like more of a kindness to just cut the boy loose."

"No!" said Arthur immediately. "Colm ain't never gonna forget who sold him out to us. If Kieran ever gets spotted by them when he's not with us, they'll snatch him back in a heartbeat and do God knows what to him. Letting him go is the same as tossing him right back to them."

"Well, what do we do then?" she asked, looking at him with her expression uncertain. 

"Go hunting."

Arthur and Karen both turned in surprise to see Charles standing nearby. "You said you'd go with me nearly a month ago, Arthur. Come with me now, and we'll take Kieran with us. I want to go after some elk up north, we can be gone for a couple of weeks. Long enough for some of this to die down, let people distract themselves with something else."

"I don't know that that's gonna work, Charles." said Karen, doubtfully. "Folk around here are feeling like they've got permission now to take out their frustration on 'im. And folk around here have got a lot of frustration."

"Well, that's why we'll make sure he's not around here for a while." Charles looked at Arthur. "This- this _torment_ Dutch is letting them put him through, it's not right. Micah, Sean, Javier-- what the hell is wrong with them?"

Karen shrugged. "He's an O'Driscoll, that's all they see."

"That's not an excuse for how they're acting. We should be better than this." said Charles angrily.

"Well, apparently we ain't." she retorted.

"Just be ready to go tomorrow, Arthur." Charles muttered. "I'll tell Kieran."

He started to walk away, but Arthur reached out and put a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

"Thank you, Charles." he said sincerely. Charles nodded.

"Of course, Arthur."

\- ...-

They left before dawn the next morning, when the rest of camp was still sleeping. Charles led the way, with Arthur behind, and a very silent Kieran taking up the rear. 

It was Lenny on watch, who eyed them sleepily as they passed. 

"Charles, Arthur... going out early today, I see..." He spotted Kieran mid-yawn. "...huh? Are you taking _him_ out? ...Dutch knows about this, right?"

"Dutch made him my personal responsibility, didn't he?" growled Arthur.

"Yeah, and I see how well that's working out." snorted Lenny. Charles was getting ahead of them, not having slown Taima at all as they passed Lenny by.

"C'mon, Arthur." he called back over his shoulder. "We've got a lot of ground to cover before we're in the mountains."

Grateful, Arthur gestured to Kieran and sped after him, ignoring any further questions from Lenny.

As soon as they were out of the trees around Clemen's Point, Arthur nudged Beatrice up by Taima.

"Charles." he said quietly.

"Yes, Arthur?" Charles looked at him curiously.

"You mind if we stop for a bit once we're further out? I want to..." he motioned behind them.

"Of course, Arthur. I wanted to stop by the gun store in Rhodes anyway, to stock up on ammunition. We won't be able to up in the mountains."

"Thanks, Charles." 

When they reached the town, Arthur gestured to Kieran to keep following him while Charles rode Taima over to the store.

He led Kieran out past town, and up a small hill by the road. He dismounted there, Kieran following suit. He stood there, waiting on Arthur.

Arthur was struggling even to look at him. "Kieran--" he tried to start, but the words he tried to say died in his throat. He forced himself to look up, to meet Kieran's eyes.

Kieran was just looking back at him, still waiting. Arthur swallowed thickly and tried again.

"Kieran...dammit, I didn't mean for any of this to happen! I don't know what the hell has gotten into Dutch, if- if I'd known he was gonna react like that, I'd never have--"

"--never have gone out to the marsh with me?" asked Kieran, quietly.

"No!" said Arthur immediately, far too loud. He glanced around and lowered his voice. "I wouldn't undo that for anything, Kieran. You know that. But I wouldn't have pulled that job in St. Denis--or- or I would have insisted we rob those women, or--"

"I'm glad we didn't rob them, Arthur. They were kind to me."

"Well, everyone in our damn gang ain't being very kind to you as a result!" He rubbed his temples, feeling exhausted already, early as it was. "I don't know what the hell Dutch is talking about, anyway--not like those women would ever be able to even identify you, or us--"

"He just don't like me, Arthur." said Kieran, simply.

"That ain't no excuse for throwing you to the damn wolves! You helped me bring him a sack of fucking jewels, Kieran, I- I thought--"

"Thought that'd get me accepted? You oughta know better, Arthur. Like Dutch keeps telling me now, money don't buy loyalty. It's gotta be earned."

"But he ain't giving you a chance to earn it!" hissed Arthur, then stopped himself, seeing Kieran's wry half-smile. This was exactly what Kieran had been complaining about all along, wasn't it? Even Arthur had just ignored his predicament before he'd learned to care for Kieran. He remembered his harsh words on their fishing trip together with a twist of his gut.

_I'm trying hard to feel sorry for you, but somehow...I just can't manage to._

"Dammit..." he muttered, angry at himself. "I- I'd stop this if I could, Kieran. It's cuttin' me up, seeing it. I know it's hurting you worse, but- but believe me, if I could fix this..."

Kieran was already shaking his head. "I know you can't, Arthur. You know it, too. You been doing it right, if you were trying to protect me that'd just make it worse, y'know."

"I know, but--" Arthur wanted badly to reach out to him, to hold him, to touch his cheek like he'd done before.

Kieran seemed to sense it, maybe saw his hand twitch. He reached out to grab that hand, stepped close to Arthur and held it between them in both his own, quickly bending to press his lips to Arthur's palm.

Arthur sucked in his breath. He wasn't worthy of this, this easy forgiveness and the kindness in Kieran's eyes.

"Arthur! Kieran!"

It was Charles coming up the road. Kieran dropped Arthur's hand like it was burning him and jumped back, looking anywhere but at him while his face turned red. Arthur turned quickly. Had Charles seen...?

If he did, he gave no indication.

"Thanks for waiting for me." he said quietly as he rode up, like he was the one who'd asked Arthur for time and not the other way around. "There isn't anything either of you need in town while we're stopped, is there?"

"No, we should be well supplied." said Arthur, while Kieran just shook his head silently.

"Let's be on our way, then."

Arthur and Kieran were quickly back on their horses and following him down the road again. For a couple of hours they rode in silence, Arthur remembering that Charles didn't enjoy too much chatter.

In the early afternoon, however, it started to get too damn boring, just looking at the scenery and listening to Beatrice's hoofbeats. Arthur dropped back a bit to ride closer to Kieran.

"So," he said quietly. "How's that new bridle for Branwen working out?"

Kieran finally perked up. "Oh, it's great, Arthur!"

And then he was talking about horsetack again, Arthur just nodding to keep him going. He finally felt himself relax in the saddle, listening to Kieran go on and on about bits and reins and things Arthur hardly knew the name of. It made him feel almost normal again.

They made good time that first day, putting many miles behind them before Charles stopped and declared they were making camp as the moon appeared overhead.

He got the fire started while Kieran cared for the horses and Arthur set up his tent. Charles raised an eyebrow at it.

"You always sleep in that thing, Arthur? Why not just stay out under the stars? You won't get a chance up in the mountains, it'll be too damn cold."

Arthur chuckled. "And wake up wet? I don't think so! Storms blow up real sudden around here. Might start hearing thunder in the night, you never know."

Kieran, just walking over to the fire, turned very red at that last remark. Charles didn't seem to notice.

"Whatever you say, Arthur." he said, continuing to prepare dinner. Arthur came over to help, and soon they had it ready. 

Arthur watched Kieran eat in large gulps, critically eyeing his still-thin arms. He leaned over and spoke quietly to him.

"You're still getting enough to eat, aren't you?"

"Yeah." answered Kieran. "Pearson sets some aside for me now, so I get all I want. There was one time when Javier knocked my bowl outta my hands, but Sadie hollered at him for that."

Arthur shook his head. "I imagine Javier didn't take to that too well."

"I don't think Sadie cared." Kieran shrugged. He saw Arthur still looking at him with a worried look and offered a smile. "I ain't never gonna get much fatter than this, y'know. I've always been kinda skinny."

Somewhat assured, Arthur went back to his own food.

Soon they were done eating and the remains of their meal were cleaned up, and they were all yawning after the day's ride. Arthur retreated to his tent while Kieran started to lay out his bedroll across the fire from Charles.

"What are you doing, Kieran?" Arthur heard Charles ask behind him, his tone mildly curious.

"Uh, setting up my bed?" Kieran answered, sounding politely confused by the question.

"Don't you sleep in Arthur's tent?"

There was silence throughout their tiny camp. Arthur felt like his heart had stopped.

"W- what do you mean?" Kieran squeaked, finally.

Arthur poked his head out to see Charles giving Kieran a Look. "C'mon, you two. I'm not blind." He looked over at Arthur and raised an eyebrow. Arthur just looked back at him, feeling frozen.

Charles shook his head. "I don't care what the two of you do, Arthur. But don't pretend around me, like I can't tell."

Maybe it was safe, then. Arthur silently jerked his chin at Kieran, who scrambled over and ducked past him into the tent, face so red he was almost purple.

"Good night, Charles." Arthur muttered.

"Good night, Arthur." Charles answered cheerfully. "Rest well, we have a long way to ride tomorrow."

Arthur retreated back into his tent again, where Kieran was waiting for him.

"Arthur!" He hissed. "Arthur, what do we--"

"Nothing." Arthur whispered back. "I...I think we can trust Charles. But we got to be more subtle around everyone else, he ain't the only one in the gang with a pair of eyes, damn them."

He went to Kieran then, wrapped his arms around him for the first time in weeks, feeling him tremble.

"Let's go to sleep, alright? I'm just glad I get to hold you again."

Kieran pressed back him tightly. "Me too." he whispered.

They laid themselves down then, and Arthur kept his arms around Kieran until he felt his breathing grow slow and even with sleep. He eased himself up slowly, not wanting to wake him again.

When he slipped out of his tent, Charles was awake and waiting for him, as Arthur already knew he would be. He held out a bottle of whiskey.

"Drink?" he asked, eyebrow raised.

"Please." Arthur muttered, accepting the proffered bottle and taking a long pull. He sat next to Charles, who took the bottle back silently and drank himself. 

"Must be hard." he remarked quietly.

"For who, _me_?" said Arthur, sarcastically. 

Charles shook his head. "For both of you." he corrected Arthur.

Arthur ran a hand over his face. "When did you notice?" he asked, his voice low.

"I wasn't really sure until this morning, when I saw you both on the hill...but the girls in camp already know. Karen said something to me about it before, but honestly...I didn't believe her. Until this morning."

_Whassamatter, boys? Lover's quarrel?_

_Got your boy some new clothes, I see?_

Damn it. Damn it, damn it, damn it. Arthur never could seem to help making a damn fool of himself. He reached for the whiskey bottle again, Charles willingly passing it over.

"So the girls know. What about the rest of the boys, any of them suspect anything, you think?" he asked.

"Not a damn thing. They aren't as observant as the women. Micah's been going around trying to imply that you're about to defect to Colm O'Driscoll, but I haven't heard anything else out of him. And you've heard the things he's said to Pearson about the Navy, or to Bill about...Bill. We'd have heard it from him by now if he suspected."

"That's good." muttered Arthur. "Thanks for keeping an ear out. If Dutch ever finds out..."

A horrible realization was dawning on Arthur. "...he'll kill him." he continued slowly, knowing it was true as he said it.

Charles' face darkened. "I don't doubt what you're saying, Arthur, but...damn! Even an O'Driscoll doesn't--"

"He ain't a damn O'Driscoll!" Arthur hissed. "I'm telling you, I told Hosea-- he's one of us. I know it."

Charles looked slightly doubtful. "Look, Arthur, I know you care about him, but Kieran doesn't seem the type to have loyalty to anyone; not really. Not that I blame him, of course. Doesn't seem like anyone's shown _him_ any loyalty."

Arthur sighed. "Charles, you don't understand--I tried to tell Hosea too--look, I can't tell the details of it cause it ain't my story to tell, but..."

He leaned in closer so he could speak quietly. "Colm used to torture the kid, Charles."

To his surprise, Charles only shrugged. "So did we."

"Wha--no, we didn't--"

"Arthur." Charles just looked at him. "We kept him tied to a tree for two weeks while we starved him. We even kept him right next to the damn chuck wagon so he could smell it the whole time!"

"But that was Dutch--"

"No, Arthur." Charles was shaking his head. "That was us. That was me. I was the one watching him back in Colter, when we first tied him up in the barn, and I didn't feed him either. I may have thought that Dutch's reasons for doing it were good, but it was still torture. I did it, and it was wrong of me."

He looked at Arthur expectantly, but Arthur could only look at the ground, feeling bile rise in his throat.

"How...how is that so easy for you?" he muttered, finally.

"How is what easy? Starving someone? Arthur--"

"No! No, I mean...'I did it, and I was wrong'. How do you just..."

"You can't ever become better than you are if you don't acknowledge when you were wrong, Arthur. I won't let Dutch convince me something like that is right ever again--maybe we _were_ desperate, but there still had to be a better way to get Kieran to talk. Maybe if we'd offered him protection, instead..." He let himself trail off, both of them knowing that would never have happened. "Well, at least you're offering him protection, now."

His words gave Arthur a very nasty revelation.

"Charles, what if--" he stopped and glanced towards the tent, then lowered his voice. "Look, Kieran could spit on me tomorrow and say he never wants to see me again, and I still wouldn't let Dutch throw him out of camp. But... what if he thinks that me protecting him is- is--"

He struggled to find the word, and Charles provided it for him. "--conditional, you mean? I think I would be worried about that if I were you."

"Fuck!" Arthur hissed under his breath. He'd hoped Charles would tell him he was wrong, but--damn it!

Charles shrugged. "Well, you have to talk to him about it, Arthur. I'm afraid I don't really have any better advice for you than that."

Arthur ran a hand through his hair. "No, I know...thanks anyway, Charles. And listen, if Dutch ever goes after him when I'm not around, tries to throw him out, or- or hell, even tries to kill him, or lets Micah try, will you--?"

Charles nodded. "I'll help protect him, Arthur."

Arthur sighed, barely relieved. "Thank you, Charles. I mean that."

"Of course, Arthur."

It was always 'of course' with Charles, like doing the right thing was just... effortless for him. Arthur was frankly envious.

Charles was looking at him curiously then. "You know, Arthur, if this is so dangerous for both of you--and you know that Kieran's not the only one in danger, I know you do--why continue?"

Arthur opened his mouth to speak and was shocked to hear the broken noise that came out. He covered his face, feeling his eyes starting to burn--this wasn't happening--

"Arthur!" exclaimed Charles, surprised. "Hey, man, I didn't mean--"

Arthur waved him off and reached blindly for the whiskey. "Gimme that bottle, now--" he tried to growl, but his voice was cracking and breaking with every word.

Charles pulled it away from him. "Oh, no, I don't think so--look, just leave camp and go behind a rock or something if you don't want to cry in front of me, but you've got to get it out of your system, Arthur. You can't just drink that away!"

"Hell I can't!" retorted Arthur, but he got up and left, walking half-blind in the dark until he was far enough away that Charles wouldn't be able to hear him.

There, he slumped against the base of a tree and took a deep breath. He quickly discovered that years of swallowing back any tears that dared try to make an appearance had left him nearly unable to cry at all. He looked up at the moon above him, at the bright river of stars, and thought about what Charles had said.

_You can't ever become better than you are if you don't acknowledge when you were wrong, Arthur._

When had Arthur been wrong? A lot of times, actually. A hell of a lot of times. He was surprised to find himself thinking of Mary more than anything--he hadn't been fair to her, had he? Blamed her for leaving him in his heart, when he had offered her only the life of a criminal's wife, doing the cooking and cleaning and laundry for the camp men while they were hiding out in the damn woods as they were now. Or the alternative, to be his kept woman, like Molly--was that any better? Mary wouldn't have stood for it, he knew. It wasn't any damn life he offered at all.

Tears were starting to actually flow down his cheeks now, although he couldn't bring himself to let a sob escape, just sighing over and over instead.

_I didn't treat her right, and I've treated Kieran a hell of a lot worse. Would serve me right and be exactly what I deserve if he did go and spit on me and say he never wants to see me again. But... I at least have to make sure he knows that it's _safe_ for him to do that. Even if I can't keep him safe from everyone else, I can at least keep him safe from me._

Arthur did let out a single sob at that thought, finally looked down from the moon and just buried his face in his hands.

\- ...-

When he came back to camp, Charles was mercifully asleep. Arthur crept back into his tent, hoping--

But Kieran's open eyes were glinting back at him from the dark insides of the tent.

"Arthur?" he whispered. "Are you alright?"

Arthur lay down next to him and slowly put his arms around him, feeling like he barely had a right to. Kieran pressed himself up against him, reached up to touch his face.

"Arthur? Your eyes are all puffy, have you been...?"

"I guess." he whispered, knowing the hoarseness of his voice told the truth for him. He was afraid Kieran would ask him why, but he just pressed himself tighter to Arthur, stroking his hair. It seemed backwards and wrong, for Kieran to be the one comforting _him_ , but Arthur needed to sleep so he let him. It was a long time coming for him, but mercifully dreamless.

\- ...-

He woke with the first light of dawn, rubbing his swollen eyes with a groan. Kieran was immediately poking his head in the tent--of course he was awake already.

"Don't rub your eyes like that!" he scolded. "I'm making a poultice for you now, it should take the swelling down. Gimme a minute, alright?"

And with that he disappeared again. Arthur shook his head at himself.

_Did you ever call Kieran pathetic, Arthur Morgan? You shoulda been looking in a damn mirror when you said it!_

He didn't have much time to think about it--true to his word, just a minute later Kieran was ducking into the tent, holding something in his hands that smelled rather strongly of raw--

"Are those potatoes?" Arthur asked, surprised.

"Well, they're grated up, but yeah. It's good for swelling; close your eyes."

Arthur obeyed, and felt something blessedly cool being laid across his lids. "Now, you oughta let it sit there a while before you wash your eyes. Charles said we got some time."

"Good, cause I need to talk to you." Arthur forced himself to say. "I should be doing it when I can look you in the eye, but...it can't wait."

He felt Kieran's hand on his shoulder. "What's wrong, Arthur?"

Arthur sighed and searched for the words to begin. "Look, Kieran...I just need you to know that if- if you ever--"

"If I ever want to spit on you and say I don't want to see you again, that you won't throw me to the wolves?"

Arthur started to sit up, startled, but Kieran pushed him back down again.

"Arthur, stay down, you're gonna drop potato down your front." he admonished. "And I just grated it all for you, too. Look, I guess I never told you--I just can't sleep when I hear people talking around me, makes me too damn nervous. I wake up every time. I guess it's wrong to eavesdrop... but you were talking about me."

He squeezed Arthur's shoulder. "And trust me, Arthur Morgan, you don't have to worry about me not knowing how to say no to you, though I do surely appreciate you asking Charles to help me out too. So is that all?"

"No, it ain't all." muttered Arthur. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to continue. "I- I need to apologize, Kieran. I need to do more than that, honestly, but- when you were on that tree- I--"

Another squeeze on his shoulder, a little harder this time. "I already told you, Arthur, I forgive you for that. You did feed me, after all."

"I ain't talking about the night I fed you, I'm talking about all those days I didn't! I'm talking about what Dutch did to you--"

That wasn't right.

"--what- what I let Dutch do to you--"

Still not there.

"--what I did to you."

There it was.

Kieran was silent for a long moment. Then he just chuckled, damn him, why wasn't he ever angry? "Well, I forgive you that, too, Arthur."

"No, Kieran, damn it--"

"Well fine, then, I don't forgive you! What the hell do you want from me, Arthur?!"

Kieran's fingers were digging hard into his shoulder. "I don't know, Kieran! I guess you could start by just calling me the damn fool that I am."

"Oh, I can do that!" Kieran snapped. "Arthur... look. I don't exactly... _agree_ with what you all did to me, but- but I was wrong when I told John Marston that you're just the same as the O'Driscolls. You're a real family, and I've seen men do a hell of a lot worse to protect their family than what you did. Don't you shake your head at me, Arthur Morgan, I will forgive all of you if I damn well want to!"

Arthur couldn't believe it. "But... why? Heaven knows we don't deserve it."

"Sure you do." said Kieran easily. "Everyone deserves forgiveness, Arthur. It's been... a while, a _long_ while, since I been to Mass, but I still remember our priest talking about forgiveness when I was a little boy. Not just how every one of us deserves it --even you, Arthur-- but how it also frees us. Takes the weight of other people and the things they do to you, and lets you put it aside and walk light again. I guess not everybody believes all that, but... it helps me, y'know? I don't like to hold on to hate, and to anger. It just makes me feel sick inside, like when I think of how I'm still angry at Colm. I forgave God for my mammy and pappy dying of cholera, I forgave the damn Army for kicking me out when I needed them, and I forgive all of you for tying me to a tree. You don't gotta accept my forgiveness, I guess, but you got it."

"I don't deserve you, Kieran." whispered Arthur.

"Sure you do." Kieran's touch on his shoulder was gentle again. "You need to wash your eyes now, so we can get on the road. Charles ain't gonna want to wait much longer."

\- ...-

The hunting trip went well over the next couple of weeks. Kieran turned out to be a lousy shot (Charles wouldn't even let him point a gun at an animal after watching him try to shoot down some bottles Arthur set up on a fence, saying it would just be cruelty) but he was surprisingly good at tracking. He easily learned to identify different animal markings, and soon Arthur was relying on him to find game so Arthur could take it down.

All three horses were soon laden with furs and horns and antlers, all three men stuffing themselves on good, fresh meat every night. Despite what he'd said to Arthur about not getting any fatter, Kieran's face and elbows finally started to round out and lose their sharpness.

They made their way slowly over the mountains, coming up on the Little Creek River early one afternoon.

Kieran pulled Branwen up sharply. "Ah, we can't go this way." he said nervously.

Charles stopped and looked back at him. "We've almost gotten this elk, Kieran, and it's huge, should be the last thing we hunt on this trip. I'm not letting it go."

"No!" hissed Kieran, looking suddenly afraid. "You can't-- there's O'Driscolls up this way! Their biggest hideout's near here!"

Arthur and Charles were immediately peppering him with questions.

"What?! How close is this place, what's the name of it? How many men?"

"Do you know the way from here? Can they spot us?"

Kieran tried to answer them both. "It's Hanging Dog Ranch, it should be a couple miles away from where we are now. They can't spot us from here, but they've got a lot of men, not sure exactly how many. If we keep following this creek we'll be right on it."

Charles and Arthur looked at each other, reaching a silent accord.

"I've got to check this out, Arthur. You take Kieran back, and I'll meet up with you at Clemen's Point in a few days after I've gotten some information."

"Got it." said Arthur. "Kieran, c'mon."

"Be careful!" Kieran told Charles, nervously. "And- and watch for the barn loft! They got a Maxim gun set up in there!"

Charles nodded. "I will. Thank you, Kieran."

And then he was leaving them, Kieran watching with a worried expression. Arthur steered Beatrice back around to the south and motioned Kieran to follow him.

"Arthur, is he gonna be alright?" Kieran asked, as they started on their way home.

"Charles? Course he is, if anyone can manage to slip up there without being spotted it's him, trust me." He couldn't help giving Kieran a sly grin. "Just you and me in camp tonight, y'know."

Kieran blushed. "Uh, actually, Arthur..."

He was turning even redder now. Arthur looked at him, curious.

"Would you mind if we got a hotel room?" Kieran asked, his voice barely a squeak.

"Sure, if you want to. Why you so embarrassed to ask, though?"

Kieran was actually hiding his face in his hands. "Uh, there's something I want to- that I want you to- but- but I don't want to be out in the woods when--" he trailed off, refusing to look at Arthur.

Arthur was burning with curiosity, but he didn't think he'd have much luck coaxing it out of Kieran on the road. "Well, alright, tell me when we get to Strawberry, then. We'll stay at the lodge there--"

"Not Strawberry!" said Kieran quickly. "Folk in Strawberry are--uptight."

"Well, I agree with that, at least... let's go to Valentine, then. It'll be a longer ride, though. We won't get there til after nightfall."

"That's perfect." said Kieran, sounding relieved. "Better to be checking in after dark; we don't really need to be seen going in the same room."

Arthur couldn't stand it. "Kieran, what in the hell are you wanting to ask me that you can't just say out here? Ain't nobody around!"

"Nothing! I mean, uh- well- I guess it is something, but--" he peeked at Arthur between the fingers covering his face still. "Uh, you carry gun oil with you, don't you?"

Confused, Arthur patted his pocket to feel the familar shape of a metal vial. "Course, I always have some with me."

"Good. Just... keep in your pocket, will you? ...no reason."

No reason. Arthur snorted but stopped asking questions, and tried to just enjoy the sunlight as they rode.

\- ...-

It took longer than Arthur had thought to get to Valentine, and it was nearly midnight when they arrived at the small hotel.

"You go get the room, and I'll come up the outside stairs to meet you." Kieran told him quietly. "And--pay for a bath too, will you?"

"Sure, Kieran. You want the deluxe bath?" he said with a wink, making Kieran blush.

"No! Just go get the room, will you?"

Arthur chuckled and went inside to pay. Kieran came in from the side door, and Arthur let him have the bath first, shooing away the prostitute that came yawning down the hall to offer help. When he came back out, damp and smelling of soap, Arthur gave him the key to the room upstairs, while he went in to use the bath. He'd shared water before; it still got him clean enough, in his experience.

Once he was done he headed up the stairs himself, gently knocking on the door of the room to warn Kieran before pushing it open.

He'd already half-expected Kieran to be naked, but the sight of him laying bare on the bed, waiting for Arthur, still had him half-hard in an instant.

Kieran gave him an embarrassed look. "Quit staring and shut the door." he whispered, and Arthur came in, shutting it behind him.

He immediately crossed the room to sit next to Kieran, and starting running a hand up one of his legs, starting at the ankle and slowly moving up. Kieran just watched as Arthur's hand smoothly inched up over his calf, his knee, his thigh, and then diverted itself over his hip. He dropped his head back onto the pillow and looked up at the ceiling as Arthur slowly touched his belly, his chest, his hand finally sliding up his neck and tangling in his hair.

Arthur bent to kiss him then, thinking to himself how sweet Kieran tasted even without any peach syrup in his mouth. Kieran murmured against him, reaching up to wrap his arms around Arthur's shoulders.

Arthur started to strip off his shirt, wanting to feel more of Kieran's skin against him, when he felt the shape of the vial of oil in his pocket. Remembering Kieran's earlier remark, he pulled it out and set it on the nightstand. Kieran just stared at it while Arthur undressed, his eyes round.

Arthur looked at Kieran, shivering slightly on the bed, looking at the oil on the nightstand. He was starting to suspect what Kieran wanted; he'd been with plenty of prostitutes, and while he'd never taken them up on it, some of them had offered... special services.

"Kieran," said Arthur slowly. "Are you wanting me to take you from behind, boy?"

Kieran immediately pulled a pillow over his face with a groan of embarrassment. Arthur could actually see the red flush spreading all the way down his neck under the pillow.

"...yes." he whispered, muffled.

Arthur felt hesitant. "Thought it used to hurt you when Colm did that." he said quietly.

Kieran threw the pillow aside and sat up to look Arthur in the eye. "Colm was a brute." he hissed. "And- and you ain't. So... it's fine, alright?"

"If you say so, Kieran..."

"Oh, I do say so! Quit talking about him when we're together."

"Sorry." Arthur apologized, reaching out for Kieran's face, cupping his cheek, leaning forward to kiss his neck. "Sorry, sorry, sorry..." Another kiss with every word.

Kieran sighed and started to relax again, wrapping his arms back around Arthur's shoulders and letting him kiss and even nip lightly at his neck.

He started to push Kieran down against the pillows, wanting him to put his head back again to give Arthur better access to kiss his throat, but was slightly surprised when Kieran pushed back against him.

"No, no, Arthur-- you lean back, alright, and let me--"

Arthur let Kieran guide him into position, sitting up against the headboard while Kieran straddled his lap. He reached over and grabbed the vial of oil, motioning for Arthur to hold out his hand so Kieran could spill a few drops over his fingers.

"You've gotta use oil, cause it- well, it ain't like a woman, y'know..." he trailed off, embarrassed again. Arthur just rubbed his fingers together to coat them, raising an eyebrow at Kieran.

"What you know about women, boy?" he drawled slowly. Kieran was blushing again.

"Not much-- and quit talking about other people while we're--!"

Arthur chuckled. "You're the one who brought it up."

"I- I was just trying to explain--"

"I think I've got it from here, Kieran." said Arthur smoothly, and then he reached a hand under him, sliding his oil-slick hand between Kieran's thighs until he could feel the tip of his finger pressing against his puckered entrance. He slowly rubbed his finger back and forth, massaging gently, watching Kieran's eyelids flutter, before pushing in.

Kieran let out his breath in a huff, squeezing his eyes shut. He leaned forward against Arthur, pressing his face into his shoulder. Arthur could hear his breathing getting faster as he moved his finger in and out, slowly.

Kieran leaned back for a moment to look at Arthur again. "Try--" and then he crooked his own finger at Arthur in a come-hither motion. Arthur tried to imitate the motion inside Kieran's body, and was rewarded with a soft moan.

"Ohh, Arthur..." Then he was hiding his face in Arthur's shoulder again. Arthur repeated the motion over and over, Kieran growing breathless next to his ear.

Arthur had never performed this particular act before, but he could feel the tightness of Kieran's body and knew there had to be another step in between this, and--

He pulled his finger out, rubbed them all together to make sure there was still enough oil, then pressed back in with two.

Kieran made an uncomfortable noise in his ear, and Arthur tried to go slow, using his other hand to trace circles on Kieran's back.

"Relax, darlin'." he whispered. "We ain't in any rush. Just tell me when you're ready."

"Ohh, I'm ready _now_." Kieran answered, his voice half a whine and half a growl.

"No, you ain't." said Arthur, starting to crook his fingers again. "I can feel you ain't, you're squeezing around me so damn tight--"

Kieran groaned impatiently and bit Arthur's neck, making him hiss. He ignored the way the feeling of Kieran's teeth on him made his cock throb and kept his pace slow.

It took several minutes for him to feel Kieran's body fully relax--several minutes of Kieran impatiently biting and sucking at his neck, moaning his name, grabbing his jaw and kissing him deeply while Arthur tried to remain in control of himself, just slowly moving his fingers, both of them nearly driving each other crazy.

Finally, Arthur pulled his fingers out, and Kieran immediately snatched the vial of oil off the nightstand with an almost triumphant noise.

"Oh- oh yes, Arthur--" he stuttered breathlessly as he spilled oil over his hands and reached down to stroke Arthur's cock, giving it a thick coating. Arthur groaned and tried to breathe deeply, feeling himself on the edge already.

He watched, entranced, as Kieran carefully positioned himself, reaching down to hold Arthur's cock and line it up to his entrance. Then, he slowly sank down, squeezing his eyes shut in obvious discomfort as Arthur entered him.

"Here--" said Arthur. "Don't- don't force it if it hurts--"

But Kieran was shaking his head almost frantically. "No! No, it's fine--I need it, I need you, Arthur--"

And then he was all the way down, sitting against Arthur with a gasp. Arthur was gasping for air himself, feeling Kieran clamping almost too-tightly around him. He looked down, seeing where he disappeared into Kieran, their bodies joined together at a single point.

And then Kieran was shakily lifting himself up, only partway before he sank down again, making a desperate noise in his throat that Arthur needed to hear again. He watched as Kieran rose again, sank, and rose--but his muscles were shaking, his rhythm nonexistent. Arthur reached forward to help him, supporting his thighs and lifting him up so he could drop back down again, and they started to slowly move together, finding a pace.

Soon, however, Kieran seemed to get a second wind and began to move faster, pushing Arthur's hands away with a growl and riding him in earnest, as skillfully as he rode Branwen, his hips undulating in a motion that was making Arthur's whole world come undone. He tried to breathe deeply, make it last longer, just watching Kieran move, almost in disbelief that this could be happening to him.

But Kieran came stuttering to a halt too soon, panting. "Damn-- A- Arthur, my legs are--"

And so Arthur helped him lift himself up on trembling legs, all the way this time, and gently lay him down before he got up himself and took position between Kieran's spread thighs, just looking down at him for a moment. Kieran's dark hair was haloed around his face, his eyes half-lidded and slightly dazed, just looking back at him.

"This alright, me being on top of you like this?" he asked quietly, reaching out to stroke Kieran's face. Kieran grabbed his hand and started kissing his palm like Arthur'd hoped he would.

"Yeah, Arthur." his voice was cracking. "Oh, it's perfect. Please--"

Arthur obliged him, carefully lining up and pushing back in as Kieran gave a sigh that turned into a low moan.

"Arthur..." he whispered hoarsely. "Oh, Arthur--"

And then it was Arthur's turn to start moving his hips, rolling them slowly, feeling himself bottom out against Kieran with every thrust. Kieran was panting again soon, pulling at Arthur's shoulders and wrapping his legs around him.

"F- faster, Arthur, _please_!"

Arthur didn't want to go faster, didn't want this to ever be over, but at the sound of Kieran's pleading he found himself almost helpless to stop, driving into him over and over at a relentless pace now. Kieran threw his head back and Arthur bent down to kiss his throat, sucking marks into his skin as he kept up his rhythm, both of them growing almost frantic.

"Ah, Kieran--" he groaned, feeling Kieran tight around his cock, his arms around Arthur's shoulders and his legs around his waist, his voice in his ear, moaning wordlessly now with every movement Arthur made. It was too damn much, it was making him lose his mind, and then the words were spilling out of him--

"Oh, Kieran, Kieran--I love you, I love you so goddamn much, I love you-- _Kieran_ \--" And then he was over the edge, emptying himself deep inside Kieran's body, barely remembering to reach forward and stroke his cock, bringing him to orgasm at almost the same moment as Arthur. He just held himself there for several long moments as Kieran spasmed around him, moaning as he painted Arthur's hand white.

Then they both just breathed for a short time, panting and gasping. Kieran reached up to him with shaking hands, and Arthur bent to oblige him with a kiss.

He reached down between them and carefully pulled out, seeing Kieran wince. "Was I too rough?" Arthur asked him immediately, worried.

But Kieran just shook his head and gave him a weary smile. "No, Arthur. You were just perfect."

And then he was yawning, and Arthur suddenly felt exhausted, too. He flopped down heavily next to Kieran, who immediately rolled over to press himself up against Arthur's chest.

"Shoulda saved that bath for after, maybe." Arthur whispered to him, already feeling the prickle of sweat drying on his skin. Kieran wrinkled his nose.

"We'd been out hunting for two weeks, Arthur. We smelled like horse. And worse." He gave a long, tired sigh against Arthur's chest. "Just go to sleep, hmm? We can wash up in the morning."

Arthur nodded, and started to close his eyes, when Kieran spoke again quietly.

"Oh, and Arthur...?"

"Mmm?"

"I love you, too."


	8. Chapter 8

Things were very different when Arthur and Kieran returned to camp after their trip up to the mountains with Charles. Arthur had honestly been convinced that Charles' plan of "out of sight, out of mind" to reduce Kieran's bullying around camp wasn't going to do a damn thing, but it turned out Charles Smith was a smarter man than Arthur Morgan.

The first clue that things had changed came when they passed by Javier on watch. He'd greeted Arthur, then looked past him to Kieran and just muttered "Finally, some peace." Arthur gave him a curious look, but continued on into camp without stopping to ask.

It was Tilly they saw next-- she, too, looked right past Arthur and sighed in obvious relief when she saw Kieran.

"Oh, thank goodness-- girls, Kieran's back!" she called over her shoulder. Arthur immediately heard a "Hallelujah!" coming from Karen, but before he could ask what the hell was going on, Sean was standing at Branwen's stirrup. 

"Hey, Kieran!" he said, too cheerfully. "Look who's back! You know I was always just teasing you, son, I like a good joke, I do! You didn't have to go and disappear for a damn fortnight--"

"What in the hell are you going on about, Sean?" Arthur growled as Kieran climbed down from his saddle. 

Sean actually put an arm around Kieran. "Us Irish boys, we've got to stick together, y'know!"

"Uh... we do?" asked Kieran, bemused. 

"Oh, of course! Why, you and I, we're brothers! We should be stickin' by each other, defendin' each other..."

Susan Grimshaw's voice suddenly rang through camp. "Sean, you little shit, where are you?!"

"There she is." Sean muttered to Kieran. "Remember what I said about defendin', now--"

And then he took off into the trees.

Kieran looked at his swiftly retreating back for a confused moment, then turned back just as Miss Grimshaw spotted him.

"Kieran Duffy! _Where the hell have you been?!_ " she looked to be in a towering rage, hair slipping out of her bun and face almost purple with apoplexy.

"Uh..." Kieran tried to back up and immediately ran into Branwen. "I- I been out working, Miss Grimshaw, with Charles and Arthur on a hunting trip--"

"I do not consider standing around holding the reins while someone else shoots something to be 'working', boy!"

Kieran was turning an interesting shade of a pink. Arthur watched idly as he started to pull down the furs from his horse. He was starting to get an idea of what had been going on while they were gone.

"Just _look_ at the state of this camp!" Susan yelled, which confused Arthur a bit at first--everything looked perfectly normal at first glance. Then he looked a bit closer, and saw tables sticky with grease, hay bales stacked in the wrong place and growing mold, water slopped around every container creating mud puddles, a stack of tangled horse tack by the scout fire waiting to be cleaned and repaired. He had to smirk. Apparently everyone had gotten quite used to Kieran just quietly maintaining things before the sun even rose, and no one was keeping up with it in his absence. Sean had obviously been the one catching most of Miss Grimshaw's fire and fury, which Arthur thought was exactly as he deserved for lazily hanging around camp within her sight all damn day.

"Oh, uh- I'll help fix everything up, Miss Grimshaw, but- I've got to help Arthur with these furs, first." Kieran stammered, looking shocked (and very slightly pleased) to have actually been missed.

Arthur chuckled. "I've got a handle on this, why don't you go help Miss Grimshaw?"

He made his way over to Pearson's wagon as Kieran was pulled away by the arm, Miss Grimshaw already rattling off a list of chores she wanted done "--by nightfall, boy!"

"Yes, Miss Grimshaw!"

Arthur had to shake his head. Last time he doubted Charles on anything, that was for sure. Most of the boys in camp despised doing any chores; now that they knew who'd been doing it for them (and experienced the full and impressive extent of Miss Grimshaw's wrath) Kieran could apparently graduate from whipping boy to dogsbody.

Pearson came around the chuck wagon and started grabbing furs from him. "Ah, good work, Mr. Morgan! Looks like you had a good trip!"

He leaned in a bit closer and spoke quietly. "And I see you brought the boy back. Good. Not exactly been quiet around here without him--but don't tell Miss Grimshaw I mentioned it, please."

Arthur had to laugh out loud. "What in the hell has she been doing to y'all?" He shook his head, still laughing. "Don't worry, Pearson, he'll get her sweetened up again, I'm sure."

"He'd better. If I have to wake up to her screaming at somebody even one more morning... well. Did you know, we didn't even have women on the ships in the Navy, Mr. Morgan--"

"Oh, not the Navy again, Pearson, I just got home!"

\- ...-

And so camp started to feel like home again for Arthur, and even for Kieran, Arthur supposed. Not that he had a chance to ask him; they'd both firmly agreed not to speak to each other in camp in order to not raise further suspicion about their relationship.  
Arthur, however, wasn't sure how much longer he could keep it up. Every night now he was having dreams of that big white house, sometimes with Mary in the window and Kieran in the yard, other times the two of them together on the porch, looking at each other and laughing like it was the most normal thing in the world for Arthur's woman and his new man to be standing arm in arm waiting for him. Waking up from those dreams alone in his cot was hard, harder still when he had to watch Kieran from a distance throughout the day, remembering the feel of his body without being able to hold him, remembering the sound of his voice saying "I love you" without being able to even whisper it back. It made him feel even worse that Kieran was obviously better at it than Arthur was-- he barely glanced in Arthur's direction all day, busying himself with chores and horse tack and helping Pearson.

Arthur at least got a brief respite when Charles came back from scouting out Hanging Dog Ranch. He'd immediately come to Arthur upon his return and they'd gone out walking to discuss it.

"Honestly, I'm not sure we should even mention it to Dutch." Charles said. "Kieran was right about the size of the place. We don't have the men to take it, and we're too far south now anyway to have everyone riding up that far north when Colm isn't even there."

"Probably for the best that we don't say anything, then." Arthur agreed. "I wasn't sure how to explain Kieran knowing about the place and not telling us before now, anyway."

"Not that there was any reason for him to mention it til now-- but I see what you mean. I can just imagine how Dutch would take it." He gave a shake of his head before continuing. "So, how are things in camp now?"

Arthur laughed. "A hell of a lot better, actually! Them boys know who's buttering their bread, now-- and hauling their water, and scrubbing their tables, and just generally keeping the wrath of ol' Miss Grimshaw off their backs. They're leaving him alone."

"That's good!" said Charles, sincerely. "I told you he just needed to get out of camp for a while. Speaking of which, Arthur, would you mind if I take him hunting with me again? He's a good tracker, I think he'd be helpful to have along."

"Well, sure, but I don't know why you're asking _my_ permission, Charles."

"He is still your personal responsibility, isn't he? I just wanted to check. I was hoping to leave tomorrow if he was ready."

"Tomorrow?" said Arthur, surprised. "But you just got back, ain't you tired?"

"I'm fine. I heard about a giant boar up in the swamp not too far north of here, I want to see if I can get it while it's still in the area."

"Whatever Kieran wants, I'm fine with." Arthur said with a shrug.

"Thanks, Arthur."

\- ...-

But having Kieran gone turned out to be harder, not easier. It was only for a few days this time, but Arthur struggled not to visibly mope. He tried to busy himself with the Grays business, trying to ingratiate himself with the family as Dutch had asked, but that damn Beau Gray had started asking him to carry love letters back and forth. Besides being slightly humiliating for an outlaw of Arthur's stature to be playing postman, watching the two lovebirds sigh over each others' words gave him a twist in the gut each time.

At least Kieran wasn't gone too long. He and Charles came trotting back into camp near nightfall with an impressive boar skin less than a week later, and Arthur hurried to catch Kieran's eye before Miss Grimshaw spotted him. He gave Kieran a quick wink, then turned and walked off through the trees along the lake as dusk fell around them.

He made his way what seemed like a fair distance from camp and leaned against a tree, feeling oddly nervous. Thankfully he didn't have to wait too long before he heard footsteps in the bushes, and then Kieran was there.

He just looked at Arthur for a moment, smiling. 

"I missed you." he said quietly, and then Arthur couldn't stand it any longer. He pulled Kieran into his arms and kissed him as deeply as he could, eager to taste the sweetness of his mouth again. He stroked his fingers through Kieran's hair, making a soft sound into the kiss when Kieran pressed his body tightly up against Arthur's, pressing him back into the tree.

"I missed you." he repeated breathlessly when they finally broke the kiss. "I missed you so much, Arthur--"

And then he was kissing Arthur again, and again, fiercely, like was was trying to devour him, like he was hungry for Arthur's touch. Arthur obliged him gladly, turning them both around so that it was Kieran pressed against the tree, kissing and sucking at his throat to make him gasp. He could feel himself starting to get hard as Kieran lifted his legs up and wrapped them around his waist, just letting Arthur hold him up against the tree. Kieran was already rock hard himself, Arthur could feel it throbbing against him-- he was always impatient when Arthur wanted to take things slow.

And then he was whispering "Arthur, you got any gun oil in your pocket?" and Arthur was almost shaking at the thought, frantically digging for a metal vial and finding one with a growl of triumph.

Kieran grinned at him and put his feet back on the ground, stepping on a dry twig with a loud crack that brought Arthur back to reality for a moment. He quickly looked around, assessing.

"I guess we're far enough from camp, now." he whispered. "But are you alright doing this in the woods? Thought you didn't--"

"Shut up, Arthur." Then Kieran was trying to kiss him again, reaching for the button of his jeans, but Arthur pulled back for a moment.

"Not against a damn tree! At least let me find a spot..." Arthur quickly cast his gaze around them, distracted by Kieran continuing to kiss his neck and running his hands up the inside of his shirt.

Thankfully he spotted a large rock nearby, casting a dark shadow over a clear patch of ground that they should be able to hide from sight fairly well in.

"Let's move over there." he said quietly. He tried to still Kieran by putting a finger on his lips as Kieran had once done to him, but that only resulted in his finger getting sucked on. Arthur took a deep breath to steady himself and clapped a hand on Kieran's shoulder.

"Just a damn second, Kieran, please!" he pleaded in a whisper, and Kieran let Arthur's finger slip out of his mouth, slowly pulling his hands out of his shirt. He gave Arthur an impatient look.

"Hurry up, Arthur, I need you." he whispered, and Arthur lost no time in taking off his long coat and spreading it on the ground beside the rock he'd picked out, and then spreading Kieran out on top of the coat. Kieran held his arms out to him, and Arthur was soon on the ground too, trying to kiss Kieran while also pulling his britches down enough to perform the deed. He probably wouldn't have managed it without Kieran's help--he squirmed himself into just the right postition, pulling his clothes out of the way and reaching forward to open Arthur's jeans.

"Hold on, oil--" said Arthur, panting. He pulled out the vial in his pocket, spilling it over his shaking fingers, a good deal of it splattering over both their bodies in his haste. Kieran immediately grabbed his hand and guided it to his entrance, and Arthur soon had one finger in him, and then two, so much faster than it had gone at the hotel, Kieran trying to moan as quietly as could through clenched teeth as Arthur worked him open.

"That's enough." he told Arthur, gasping. "That's plenty, I'm fine, I need you _now_ , Arthur, I'm ready--"

And then Arthur was pulling his fingers out and coating his cock with the oil as quickly as he could, lining himself up and pushing into Kieran as slowly as he could stand it while Kieran bit into his shoulder to silence himself.

He started moving his hips in a slow rolling motion as Kieran almost immediately starting whispering "Faster, faster--" in his ear, Arthur forcing himself to shake his head.

"Can't go too fast, don't wanna be loud--" he whispered back hoarsely, and Kieran groaned in frustration. He started moving his hips back against Arthur as best he could in their awkward position on the ground, making Arthur suck in his breath as his world turned very slowly sideways. He held himself to the punishingly slow pace, knowing the slap of flesh on flesh would be far too loud if he went too much faster. Kieran bit him in earnest, a bright point of pain in his shoulder that somehow only heightened his senses.

He started to move as quickly as he dared, rolling his hips as smoothly as he could to reduce the noise of their bodies coming together, reaching a hand into the tangle of clothes and Kieran's legs between them, finding Kieran's cock and stroking it quickly, the hungry noises Kieran kept making in his ear driving him crazy. Faster than he thought, he was on the edge, feeling the words bubbling up in his throat like they had before--

" _Oh Kieran I love you--_ " he tried to keep his voice quiet, but he couldn't help but speak as he felt himself starting to come. " _I love you so much--_ " And then he was gone, the dark of night seeming to turn blindingly bright for a moment even though his eyes were squeezed shut, and he came back to his senses panting, to find Kieran still hard and impatient under him.

"Arthur--" he pleaded, and Arthur didn't pull out yet, just started stroking Kieran's cock faster, kissing at his neck, his jaw, his ear, as Kieran muffled his moans in Arthur's shoulder.

"Arthur," he whispered almost frantically. "Arthur, talk to me, say it again--"

"I love you." Arthur whispered back to him, feeling Kieran started to spill over his hand, his body clenching around Arthur's now almost too-sensitive cock. "I love you, Kieran, I love you, I love you--"

Kieran pulled him into a kiss, his whole body trembling. Arthur could feel all the tension of the last few weeks leaving him, his body suddenly almost weak with weariness.

"C'mon." he told Kieran quietly. "We got to clean up and get back to camp, we can't sleep out here."

"Sure, Arthur." Kieran mumbled sleepily. "I love you, too, y'know."

"I know, darlin'."

Neither of them noticed the shadow of a figure that had been watching slip away through the trees.

\- ...-

Arthur couldn't help feeling that the errand he'd been sent on was...strange. Charles had come and fetched him in the early afternoon a couple of days after he and Kieran had returned, telling him that Dutch wanted them to go do something for him in town.

Now they were riding towards Rhodes, Arthur feeling an uneasiness in his gut. "What did you say we were doing again?" He asked Charles, who frowned.

"Going by the sheriff's office. He's supposed to tell us more when we arrive." He looked at Arthur. "Do you know anything about this? You're the one who's been deputized."

Arthur shook his head. "Not a damn thing." he muttered, feeling his nervousness grow.

They came in sight of the sheriff's office then, and Arthur pulled Beatrice up short in surprise.

"What the hell? The damn sheriff is leaving!"

And so he was-- he and the deputy were climbing onto a wagon as Charles and Arthur watched. 

"Sure as hell doesn't look like they're waiting for us." Said Charles, his brow furrowing. "What's going on?"

"I have no idea-- Dutch didn't say anything besides 'go to the sheriff'?" Arthur asked.

"Dutch didn't say anything, actually, it was Micah who told me--" he just looked at Arthur, concern on his face.

"I think we should head back." Arthur said grimly, his gut screaming at him that something was wrong.

"I agree." said Charles, and then they were racing back to Clemen's Point.

There was no one on watch to challenge them as they came galloping straight towards camp-- and then Arthur could hear Dutch's voice, loud and pitched high in anger.

"--this _snake_ in my camp--!" and then a dull thud and the sound of Kieran yelling in pain--

Arthur froze, the strength suddenly leaving his muscles as Charles jumped down from Taima and raced ahead. He almost fell from Beatrice's back as he tried to get onto his feet to follow, stumbling into the clearing to find nearly everyone in camp standing with shocked faces in a semi-circle around Dutch, Kieran, and Micah. Micah was just a few feet behind Dutch, a smug grin on his face as Dutch stood over Kieran on the ground, and there was blood on his knuckles, blood on Kieran's face--

"After I have sheltered you, after all I have done for you!" Dutch was snarling, and then his fist was punching down again--

\--only to be caught by Charles' hand. "Dutch, what the hell are you doing?" he yelled, wide-eyed. Dutch pushed him away roughly.

" _You!_ " he growled. "You have been aiding in this, allowing my best man to be seduced by- by some O'Driscoll pervert!"

Micah's face fell for a moment on hearing Arthur described as Dutch's best man--until he looked up and saw Arthur himself standing there, gray in the face.

"There he is, Dutch." he said, almost gleefully. Dutch dropped his attention from Kieran and rounded on Arthur.

"Arthur! What the hell have you been doing?!"

"Dutch--"

"Fraternizing with our enemy!"

"He ain't--"

"Sleeping with an O'Driscoll!"

"What are you talking about?" Arthur tried to lie, but felt the blood drain from his face as Micah laughed at him.

"Micah saw you!" Dutch snarled, and Arthur stepped back, shaking. That night in the woods--

"I can be understanding of the truth that any man can be seduced, Arthur, but I will not be tolerating that little catamite in my camp any longer--"

"You won't kick him out, Dutch." said Arthur, his voice sounding oddly flat and toneless in his own ears.

Dutch straightened his back and looked at Arthur suspiciously. "Or what? You'll go running off with him to Colm O'Driscoll, finally leave me? Is that it?"

Arthur pulled out his pistol and just held it by his side.

"No, Dutch." he said quietly. "I won't be leaving."

"Arthur, what the hell are you doing?!" It was Hosea, suddenly runnning forward to cover Arthur's hand with his own on the butt of his gun. "Put that away!"

Arthur reluctantly slipped it back into his holster as Hosea turned to Dutch.

"Dutch, think about what you're doing, now. This is our son-- this is _your_ son! For twenty years he's been loyal to you, Dutch. Even I left you for a time for Bessie's sake, but Arthur never did, not even for Mary. Why would you think he'd leave you now-- and go to Colm O'Driscoll, of all people?"

Micah started to speak, but Hosea quickly turned to him and snapped " _Hold your tongue!_ " in a tone that suddenly made even Arthur, standing ten feet away, feel like a little boy shrinking into his boots again. Micah shut his mouth, glaring at Hosea resentfully.

Hosea turned back to Dutch. "And what about Kieran? The boy's brought in almost $2,000 with Arthur over the last few months-- and that's more than you've been getting from some here who've been with you for years! He's kept your entire camp in order for Susan, never raised a hand or even his voice to those here who tormented him. Just... just think of what you're doing, Dutch."

A change seemed to slowly come over Dutch's face. He looked at Arthur, looked at Hosea, then stared down at the blood on his knuckles.

"Arthur..." he said, slowly. Micah looked like he wanted to speak, but Hosea's glare kept him silent. "Arthur, my boy... my son..."

He took a step towards Arthur, held out his hands in an almost pleading gesture. "You must understand, son, that I simply cannot afford the luxury of trust! That boy belonged to Colm O'Driscoll. For me to find that he's wormed his way into your bed--! I am only trying to protect you, please _understand_!"

But Arthur could only shake his head. "You ain't kicking him out of camp, Dutch." he whispered, easily heard in the silent, shocked circle around them.

Dutch's face started to harden again, then just fell into an expression of dismay. "Arthur... I cannot afford to lose you. If this is your price now..."

Micah pushed past Hosea. "Dutch, what are you talking about? You can't let this continue!"

Dutch gave him a look that froze him in place. "I am not allowing it to continue, Micah." he said, his voice tight.

He turned back to Arthur and jabbed a finger towards him. "The boy stays, so be it. But if I see him anywhere near you, Arthur--if I see him so much as looking at you!-- then I will deliver him back to Colm personally."

And with that he turned and stalked back to his tent, ignoring Micah as he followed, protesting.

Everyone else just stood there. Mary Beth had tears running down her face, Bill was practically twitching with a barely-concealed rage, but almost everyone else just... stood there, watching with wide eyes as Charles helped Kieran get back to his feet. There was blood streaming from his nose, one of his eyes nearly swollen shut, his collar ripped open to show the marks that Arthur had left on his neck.

Arthur suddenly remembered that they weren't supposed to be looking at each other anymore--

Something inside him broke. He turned and started walking away, ignoring Hosea calling after him, pushing roughly past the circle back to Beatrice, climbing on her back without any supplies and turning her on the path out of camp, kicking her quickly to a frantic gallop. 

And then he was gone.


	9. Chapter 9

John Marston had gotten tipped off about some house south of Annesburg, family stealing from the mines or some shit, supposedly had a lot of cash somewhere. He wasn't sure if he believed it, but if it was true, it could be worth a hell of a lot of money. He wasn't eager about trying to steal from the mines themselves, but stealing from someone who was stealing from the mines was perfectly alright as far as he was concerned.

The trip had taken him nearly four days there and back-- he'd been trying to take the time to set his jobs up properly lately. Unlike Arthur, apparently, who went house robbing on a damn whim and came back in two days with a sack of jewelry. Bastard.

He tried to push the thought out of his head as Old Boy trotted past Rhodes and on towards camp while he mused to himself. He'd have to take somebody with him, might as well decide who to ask. Not Sean or Bill, obviously. Arthur was talking about pulling that horse-selling con for Hosea again once Charles brought the horse boy-- Kieran-- back from pig-hunting or whatever the hell they were doing, so he'd be busy, and Charles himself didn't like house robberies very much... maybe Javier? Or what about Lenny? He was pretty young, but Arthur and Dutch both had a lot of faith in him, maybe he'd do well... but Javier was much more experienced; the man was damn professional.

He was pulled out of his thoughts by a called challenge from Karen on watch.

"It's John Marston!" he called back. Karen was giving him the strangest look.

"Oh, John... you ain't been in camp, have you?" she asked him, raising her eyebrows. "Guess you don't know..."

"Know what?" he asked her, brow furrowing. She just waved him on, shaking her head. Well, he'd just ask Hosea or somebody then, if she wanted to be like that.

He got Old Boy hitched up and decided to get some stew before he went looking for Javier-- or maybe Lenny. But Pearson was looking at him funny, too.

"Ah, Mr. Marston! Just returned to camp, I see. Well." Then he just stood there awkwardly, like he was the one waiting for John to tell him about whatever the hell had happened while he was gone.

"Pearson, you mind telling me what the hell you're talking about?" John tried to give him a suspicious look but was honestly concentrating more on the stew he was eating. Then he noticed someone peeking around the chuck wagon at him. It was Kieran, he realized, but--

"Jesus, kid! What happened to your face?" he exclaimed, shocked. Several people nearby seemed to suddenly look over, and then immediately away again. Kieran ducked away before John could get a good look at the shiner blooming over his eye. 

Pearson was just shaking his head, muttering something to himself, and John decided to leave, starting to feel frustrated. He went and sat himself by the fire, where Javier and Micah were already eating. He looked at both of them for a moment, contemplating. Listening to Micah talk ruined his digestion, but not knowing what the hell was going on was sure ruining it just as well. 

"You boys know what the hell happened in camp while I was gone?" he finally asked, reluctantly. Micah looked up with a smirk and a gleam in his eye, and five minutes later John was stumbling into Abigail's tent.

"Abigail! Can you- do you know what the hell Micah is talking about?! I just heard him calling Arthur a- a damn sodomite--"

" _John Marston! Do not use language like that in front of your son!_ "

John glanced over at Jack, who was playing with his dog near the tent. "Ah, he can't hear me over there. He's probably heard Micah say it already, anyway."

"Yes, because that is exactly the man I want our son learning from!" she snapped, putting down whatever she was working on.

"Oh, calm down, Abigail, and just tell me what the hell happened! Is Micah telling the truth about Arthur? He can't be, can he?"

Abigail just shrugged, tight-lipped.

John stared at her. "That can't be true."

"He didn't deny it when Dutch--" she cut herself off, looking upset. Very upset.

John sighed, exasperated, and went to give her a pat on the shoulder. She let him, which was surprising, actually leaned against him and let him put his arm all the way around her after he sat down next to her.

"Look, just where is Arthur? Micah was making up some shit about him running to Colm, but I _know_ that's not true, at least."

She shrugged again. "Nobody knows. He just took off, didn't even take his camping supplies."

"Not like that means anything. He would have had plenty of money in his pocket to buy another tent if he needed one."

Now Abigail was giving him that look she got sometimes--

"John Marston, you have got to go get him back."

"What?! No I don't--"

"He went after you when you was eaten by wolves!"

"Half-eaten! Barely! And that was only cause you asked him, anyhow."

"Well, now I'm askin' you!"

Then she was wrapping her arms around him, pressing her face in his shoulder, the scent of her filling his nose, and he was suddenly remembering how soft she could be, especially after four days by himself on the road.

"C'mon, John. Please." she whispered. "You got to get him back. For all of us."

"Son of a bitch." he muttered, knowing he was going to do as she asked. "I don't even know where he is, Abigail!"

She pulled back. "That Kieran might know. Since apparently he and Arthur..."

John wrinkled his nose. Then he noticed Abigail looking at him expectantly.

"What? I ain't leaving tonight! I just got back!"

"John Marston!"

And somehow, ten minutes of yelling and pleading later he was saddling Old Boy back up, cursing at himself. At least he didn't have to pack anything, since he never got a chance to unpack in the first place. And at least he'd get some peace from Abigail while he was back on the road!

He kept grumbling under his breath as he swung himself into the saddle and nudged Old Boy over towards the scout fire and the other horses. There weren't even that many hours left before sunset, this was ridiculous.

He spotted Kieran half-hiding behind that red-faced horse he rode and jabbed a finger at him.

"You! Kieran! Climb up here behind me!"

"W-what--?"

" _I said climb up!_ " John yelled, already out of patience.

Kieran scrambled up behind him, and John immediately turned and started galloping back out of camp, Kieran grabbing his waist with a startled yelp.

He didn't ask John where they were going until they were out of the trees and riding towards Rhodes.

"We're gonna go get Arthur back." John answered. "You, uh-- you don't know where he went, do you?"

He felt Kieran shaking his head behind him. "No idea. H-honest."

John slowed Old Boy down. "Well, can you think of anywhere he might have gone to hide out?"

"Um..." Kieran thought for a long moment. "Well, there- there's old Black Belle's place up in Bluewater Marsh, I guess. We-- uh, we stayed there once.''

"We'll check there first, then." He turned Old Boy to the north.

"W-why didn't you let me take Branwen?" Kieran asked him. "Wouldn't that have been faster? And- and then you wouldn't have to ride with me."

"Leaving her shows Dutch you're coming back." John explained impatiently.

"Oh... but- but you don't think Dutch would--"

"He ain't gonna hurt your horse, Kieran!" 

"Well, I didn't think he was gonna hurt me like that!" Kieran protested.

"So he is the one who gave you that shiner! Y'know, your face looks terrible, kid!"

"Least mine'll heal." Kieran muttered it under his breath, but John heard anyway.

"What the hell did you just say to me?!"

"N-nothing!"

"Look, just tell me what actually happened, will you? I can't trust a damn word that that Micah says."

"Well..." Kieran was silent for a few long moments. "Arthur and I were... are... lovers, I guess. And Micah saw us together, out in the woods, and- and he told Dutch, when Charles and Arthur were away--"

John was still in disbelief over the first part. "You and Arthur? Really?!"

"Uh... yeah."

"And what's Charles got to do with all this?"

"Well, he knew about it. He- he took me along on that long hunting trip, since nobody was lettin' me have any peace in camp anymore. I mean, more than usual."

John ignored his whining. "Keep telling the story."

"W- well, like I said, I guess Micah realized too. I mean, I love Arthur," that last bit was in a quiet mumble. "--but he's not very good at hiding things. He was always watching me around camp."

John snorted and shook his head. "I could have told you that about him. Hell, we could always tell when he'd been to see that Mary woman. He mopes worse than just about any man I know."

Kieran sighed. "Well, Micah waited til he and Charles were gone, and then Dutch suddenly pulled me out into the middle of camp, an- and just started screamin' and hittin' me, saying- saying I seduced Arthur..."

He trailed off into an embarrassed and upset mumble.

"Well, did you?"

"No! No, of course I-- I don't think I did!"

"Well, did you or didn't you?" John asked, confused.

"No! I mean, I didn't mean to! He was the first one to-- well, actually, I guess it was me, I mean he came over to feed me and I thought he wanted me to-- so I offered, but he said no. But then he was the one staring at me all the time in camp! I-- I mean, alright, I guess I was the one who crawled in his tent, but I was just gonna let it alone after that! But I didn't even get a chance to tell him to forget about it, before suddenly he was talking about-- wanting me to trust him, and- and how he- he- n-needed me a-a-around--" The words came out in a rush, faster and faster, until they suddenly petered out with a sniffle and John felt a suspicious wetness against his back.

"Are you cryin' on my shirt? Stop that!"

Kieran sniffled harder, but stopped leaning against him at least.

"Look, kid, I don't know what the hell you were just talking about, but... I do at least know that you look like that Mary of his. A bit, anyway. You're both kinda small and black-haired. I think that's just his type, I guess." John didn't know why he was bothering to comfort Kieran. "Besides, if you seduce somebody when you don't even mean to, isn't that just... y'know..."

Kieran stopped sniffling and leaned against his back again. "Falling in love?" he whispered, hopefully.

"Ugh. I guess." This was all too damn strange for John. "Are we still headed in the right direction?"

"Yeah, we been going pretty fast so we should be there soon...it's getting dark though, we- we shouldn't stop now. Arthur said there's Night Folk in this area."

"I wasn't saying we should stop. I don't want to run into those creeps, either."

He urged Old Boy into a faster gallop, and they flew through the swamps.

"You didn't finish the story-- what happened when Dutch starting yelling at you? How did Arthur end up leaving?" John called back over his shoulder at Kieran. 

"Charles and Arthur came back all of a sudden-- Charles stopped Dutch from hitting me any more, so he started yelling at Arthur, about how- how a-awful he thinks I am, and he wanted to kick me outta camp, to protect Arthur, he said. That's when Arthur pulled his gun out."

"He pointed his gun at Dutch?!"

"No! He didn't point it, just started to pull it out, but then Hosea ran over and told Dutch to- to think about what he was doing, how Arthur was his son. And then Dutch said I could stay, but if I even looked at Arthur anymore, he'd hand-deliver me back to Colm. After that he walked off, and Arthur just... left. Like I said, he's not good at hiding things, so I think he just thought it was... was safer this way."

John listened in astonishment. "That man's an idiot! He can't stay away forever, what the hell is he thinking?" He had to shake his head. "You're damn lucky Hosea was there! That whole thing sounds like nothing but a mess."

"Oh, making a mess of things is just what Arthur is- is b-b-best at--" And then Kieran was crying again, actually sobbing this time, getting John's shirt soaked. 

Arthur was going to owe him a lot for this.

And then they were finally coming within sight of Canebreak Manor under the moonlight--

"No horses outside." said John, disappointed. 

"I- I'm sorry, I really thought he might be here." Kieran apologized. 

"It doesn't matter. We'll just have to look somewhere else-- not until morning, though." He started to guide Old Boy up to the strange little house on its stilts, but felt Kieran clutching at his shoulder. 

"Be careful! Arthur said there's dynamite seeded in the yard!"

"What the hell..." John muttered, pulling up suddenly. 

"I can help you take care of Old Boy out here so we can get inside quick-- I'll show you where to tie him up so he's safe."

"Well, hurry up then. I want to strip his tack off him tonight, it's already been four days that I've been riding, now."

Soon enough they were jogging up the path to the house, Kieran carrying Old Boy's saddle. Once inside, John had to wait a moment for his eyes to adjust to the darkness while Kieran came in behind him. 

"Um, there's a bed if you want it." Kieran offered. 

John was sorely tempted after so many days on the road, but--

"Did you and Arthur-- do anything in that bed?"

"Uh..."

"You can have it." he said, grumpily. "I'll sleep on the floor."

He laid out his bedroll while Kieran climbed in the bed, and tried to go to sleep. Soon, however, he was listening to more quiet sniffling. Was this really who Arthur was-- was in love with? This sobbing mess of a man? How did he even have any tears left at this point, anyway?

"Stop crying." John told him. "We're gonna get him back, alright? And he'll figure something out with Dutch. Just-- go to sleep, okay?"

He didn't know if Kieran actually stopped crying or just got quieter, but either way there was soon silence in the house, and John fell asleep. 

\- ...-

He woke up alone in the house, and his first panicked thought was that Kieran had taken Old Boy and run off. He scrambled to his feet and ran to the door, but his horse was right where he left him, Kieran slowly brushing out his mane.

Kieran looked up when he heard John. "Did you bring any food?" he called.

"No, we'll stop and get something later, on the road." John answered. "I don't want to spend time--"

"I'm hungry!" John could see Kieran's frown from the house. "Did you bring your fishing pole? I could catch us something real quick."

"I just said I don't want to spend any more time here, kid, now come help me get Old Boy saddled up."

"No!"

"What did you say to me?!"

"I said no, John Marston! I'm hungry, and I don't like to wait to eat!" Kieran stopped brushing Old Boy and gave John a fixed, angry stare. John remembered then how long the kid had been on that tree-- not that he was exactly starving anymore, but... maybe it was best not to argue.

John went back inside to dig through his pack, grumbling, and pulled out his fishing pole. He heard Kieran coming in through the door behind him, and turned to toss him the pole.

"Well, go catch something then, if you need breakfast so damn bad!" 

Kieran gave him a resentful look and jogged back out the door. "It won't take long, come and find me on the shore." he called back over his shoulder.

John rolled his eyes and got to work cleaning up his bedroll and saddling up Old Boy. Then he went looking for Kieran-- who, true to his word, had already caught a couple of fish. They built a fire and quickly ate. Kieran's angry look softened back into a forlorn one once his belly was full, reminding John of the errand they were still on.

John heaved an annoyed sigh. "Well, where to now?"

Kieran shrugged. "I dunno, this is the only place I really stayed with him. We camped everywhere else. We did pull that horse con in Strawberry..."

"He won't be there, it's a dry town."

"Emerald Ranch? We stopped there before, and by the stable at Dewberry Creek nearby. I- I bought a bridle there for Branwen." He was giving John that resentful look again now.

"I already told you why we didn't bring your horse, Kieran, quit looking at me like that. And he ain't gonna be at Emerald Ranch, there ain't a damn thing there except too many people who know him. He won't be at Valentine, neither, we caused too much trouble there before."

They both fell silent, considering. Where would Arthur go, where there weren't too many people, where he could cool his head--

"I think I know." said John, after a moment. "But we're gonna have to stop and get you a damn coat if we're going that far north."

He got to his feet and motioned for Kieran to get up too.

"Why? Where are we going?" asked Kieran, startled.

"I think Arthur's in Colter."

\- ...-

The trip up the mountain was miserable. At least having Kieran huddled against his back kept some of the wind off and provided a little warmth, but Old Boy went slowly through the snow. John kept a wary eye out for wolves. 

"Are you a good shot at all?" he asked Kieran.

"No." he answered. "Charles wouldn't even let me shoot at any game while we were hunting, said- said it was cruelty to shoot to wound."

"Great."

"I'm good at tracking, though."

"Well, how damn useful. Keep an eye out for Arthur's tracks, then."

But this high in the mountains, the wind covered any tracks with snow far too fast, and since they were a couple days behind there just wasn't anything to see. They wouldn't know if they were in the wrong place again until they actually arrived in Colter.

It was close to nightfall when they finally did, both of them shivering as the sun started to set. At first John didn't see anything, his heart starting to sink-- all this way, for nothing?-- but then Kieran gave a shout.

"It's Beatrice-- Arthur's here!"

He started to jump down, but John grabbed hold of him. "You'll get there faster on the horse, stay here!"

He urged Old Boy to move as fast as he could through the snow, up to the least-ruined building in town where they could see fresh tracks. John sure hoped he had a fire going in there.

"Hey, Arthur!" he called as they got close. "Get out here!"

He appeared in the doorway almost immediately, a shocked look on his face. John felt instantly relieved. He hadn't wanted to tell Kieran, but he'd been afraid in the back of his mind that they'd find Arthur swinging from the damn rafters. Wouldn't have been the first man to kill himself over love, but here he was, alive and well and staring at John in astonishment.

"John Marston! What the hell are you doing up here?" he asked.

"I'm coming to take you back! What the hell are _you_ doing up here?"

But Arthur was already shaking his head. "I can't go back, John. I'm sure you heard what happened."

"Yeah, I heard! But you left behind something kind of important, didn't you?"

On cue, Kieran poked his head out from behind John. "Arthur..." he mumbled.

Arthur was running over to them then, pulling Kieran down off of Old Boy's back and into an embrace. John looked away, embarrassed, as Arthur started kissing the boy, both of them whispering nonsense about how much they missed each other. This was still too damn strange for him, watching Arthur kiss a man like that.

He looked back to see Arthur gently running his fingers over Kieran's black eye. "Damn Dutch." he growled.

"Can we just get inside? I'm freezing my damn pecker off out here!" John said, impatient.

Kieran helped him get Old Boy set up in the stable with Beatrice, and soon they were hauling the bags inside, where Arthur mercifully already had a fire roaring.

"What the hell you got in all these bags, John?" Arthur asked, grunting as he carried the last one inside.

"Food, since apparently your boy here turns into the devil hisself if he has to wait for his breakfast! I didn't want to get eaten on the trail up here, so we packed extra."

Arthur chuckled at that. John ignored him as plunked himself down in front of the fire, eager to get warm. 

Arthur sat too, sighing, and Kieran sat with him, curled up against his chest, the two of them looking at each other in a way that made John feel kind of funny.

"I ain't got the energy for planning anything tonight." said John, pushing it out of his head. "Let's just go to sleep, alright?"

The other two agreed, and soon there was only silence and snoring in the little mountain cabin, peace reigning for at least the night. Their problems would all be waiting for them in the morning.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for so many comments on the last few chapters! This one's a bit short, but please enjoy!

Arthur woke up alone, per usual.

Or, almost alone. John Marston was snoring lightly across the room from him, his scarred face looking as peaceful as it ever did, lit by the beams of morning sun drifting through the chinks in the partially run-down building they were holed up in near the peaks of the mountains. Arthur almost felt bad about waking him, after he'd gone to so much effort to bring Kieran back to him.

Almost.

He grabbed a pebble someone had dragged in on their boot and pegged it smartly off John's forehead. He woke with a snort.

"...huh?! Arthur?" He sat up and rubbed his eyes. "Where's Kieran?"

"Touches my heart that you'd think of him, Marston. I assume he's out in the stables with the horses, as he usually is. I wanted you and I to get a chance to talk."

John yawned and reached for his bags. "Well, let's at least eat something then. I'm getting used to breakfast first thing, you gotta feed that hellcat or his temper gets up."

"Really!" said Arthur, surprised. "He ain't never been like that with me. I mean, he does enjoy his meals, but... well, I guess I always fed him on time."

He shook his head with a chuckle as John dug through the bags and tossed him an apple, bread, and some cheese.

"I'm guessin' he's a bit sweeter to you than he is to me, Arthur." said John, raising an eyebrow as he stabbed a bit of bread on his knife and started toasting it over the embers remaining from last night.

"Well, I imagine so." acknowledged Arthur, opting to eat his bread as it was.

John worked at his breakfast silently for a minute or two, then turned to Arthur, a curious look on his face.

"Hey, Arthur--" he started. "Look, I know we don't always get along, and you got your problems with me, but we've known each other a hell of a lot of years, right?"

"Sure." answered Arthur, cautiously.

"Well, I guess I know you pretty well by now, but there's one thing I can't figure out." He grabbed his toast off the end of his knife and gestured with it towards Arthur. "Why Kieran?"

Arthur just shook his head and shrugged. "What do you mean, why Kieran?"

"I mean, you... you love him, don't you? Why him, and not somebody else? And don't give me that crap about mysterious love and nonsense like Dutch would, I know there's reasons! That kid is a devil when he's hungry and a damn wet fish the rest of the time, I never seen a man cry so damn much--"

"Well, I'm hoping he'll be doing less of that now that he's back with me." Arthur interrupted quietly.

"Still! He's just-- he's soft, Arthur!"

"Well, sure." said Arthur. "Abigail ain't soft?"

John wrinkled his nose. "That's different!"

"Don't seem so to me! And Kieran ain't so soft and weak as you think. He's... strong, but in a different way than I seen before. You and I look strong because we live by the gun, but take our bullets away from us and you'll see two awfully weak men. Kieran ain't never been able to live by his gun, but he's survived anyway when I don't know that I could have."

John was still giving him that scrunched-up look.

Arthur sighed. "Look, he's warm against me at night, he's shy with other people but he trusts me, and his eyes got a sparkle when he talks about horses. Is that enough?"

John shrugged. "Makes more sense to me than whatever you were just talkin' about with guns and bullets, sure."

"Look, this ain't what I wanted to talk to you about. What the hell are we gonna do about this?"

John considered the problem for a moment. "Y'know, Morgan, I think you just make things too damn complicated. You only have but so many choices anyway."

He held up three fingers. "One, you leave the gang, take Kieran and go your merry way. Rest of us never see you again."

"Not happening. The gang is my family, Marston, you know that."

John put a finger down. "Alright, choice two is that you go back to the gang but put Kieran up some place, maybe in town, away from Dutch and all them."

Arthur was already shaking his head. "He'd be looking over his shoulder for O'Driscolls every hour, that's no kinda life. And the gang's trying to make money, I can't be spending that much paying Kieran's room and board someplace."

John put another finger down. "Well, that leaves only one thing-- you gotta fix this with Dutch somehow, make him accept Kieran as a full member of the gang. Nobody really cares that much what you do with him-- well, some people do-- but they wouldn't be saying shit if you was fooling around with Lenny or somebody. It's that business about Kieran being an O'Driscoll that's got Dutch's hackles up. We need to prove his loyalty, somehow."

Arthur sighed again. "You're saying it like it's simple, but that's exactly the heart of the problem that you've hit on! How on earth are we gonna prove his loyalty? He helps in camp constantly, he's already helped me bring in a pile of cash-- what the hell else can we do?!"

But John was shaking his head at him. "You're doing this all wrong, Arthur. Dutch don't know who does what in camp without Grimshaw telling him, and he don't care much beyond hearing that everyone's doing their share. And obviously money ain't the way to win him, or else it'd be done by now. You need something else, something Dutch really cares about."

"A peace offering..." Arthur mused, remembering Micah's words after the Strawberry disaster. "But what else does Dutch care about enough that it'll get him to accept Kieran?"

"Horses?" came a voice from the doorway. John and Arthur both turned to see Kieran shaking off the snow.

"Look, I swear horses ain't my answer to everything-- but Dutch loves the Count, don't he? And it's cause he's the most magnificent horse in camp. Or just about anywhere, honestly."

"Dutch does love having the best of things." Arthur agreed.

"Well, what about that horse we saw on the way up?" Kieran asked John, who just gave him a blank look.

"What horse?"

Kieran stared at him. "I thought you were watching for wolves!"

"Yeah, wolves! Not horses!"

"You still should have-- look, I noticed a horse in the distance on the way up here. Pure white, like the Count. If she's as beautiful up close as she is from a distance, she might actually put the Count to shame, as a matter of fact. If Dutch wants the best of everything, I don't know much better we could get than that horse. Hopefully. I'll know when I see her up close."

John frowned. "Dutch doesn't do that much riding anymore."

"Doesn't matter." said Arthur. "If it's that good a horse he'd want it just to look at. For other people to look at."

"I think she's that good." said Kieran. "But we'll need to track her down."

"That's you, kid." said John. "You're the master tracker, aren't you?"

Kieran shrugged, embarrassed. Arthur and John gave each other a nod and quickly started pulling on their boots and coats.

"Alright, Kieran." said Arthur, once he was ready. "Let's go find that horse."

\- ...-

It took the better part of the day to finally spot her. Even once they did, Arthur was barely sure he was looking at a horse at all through his binoculars-- she disappeared against the white snow like some kind of ghost.

Kieran swore he knew how to catch her-- he refused Arthur's lasso and just walked (trudged) over to her through the knee deep snow. Arthur and John watched from a distance, not wanting to spook her.

"What, is he just gonna walk up to her?" muttered John.

"Apparently." Arthur answered. "She better not kick him, or she's not gonna make it to Dutch."

"I don't think horses respond to threats, Morgan."

Arthur rolled his eyes and kept watching. Sure enough, Kieran did just walk right up to her, very slowly. After what felt like an eternity for the two men watching, he was finally right next to her, then stroking her nose-- and then on her back! She fussed and bucked once or twice, putting Arthur's heart in his throat, but then she settled under Kieran's touch, tossing her head wildly but letting him stay on her back.

Kieran turned her back around towards them and began slowly making his way over. John and Arthur walked to meet him, cautiously.

"Hot damn!" John stopped walking once they were in proper view of the horse. Arthur gave a low whistle.

She was beautiful, alright. A pure white Arabian, her mane and tail looking like silk and every line of her just perfect. Even in knee deep snow her gait was a joy to watch, every step looking like she was trained to dance.

"Whaddaya think?" Asked Kieran, breathlessly, and Arthur had to shake his head, grinning.

"I think you might have found us our ticket home, Kieran."

\- ...-

The trip back to Clemen's Point took a few days at the best of times, and with a half-broken horse it took even longer. The Arabian refused to allow Arthur or John to touch her, only tolerating Kieran. Arthur was pleased by that-- he wasn't worried about her liking Dutch, as he also had a way with horses, and Dutch always liked the fact that the Count refused to carry anyone but him. The most beautiful horse, that only Dutch or Kieran could approach, was the perfect gift indeed.

By the time they were approaching camp Arthur was ready for the trip to be over. Besides missing his own cot, John and Kieran tended to snipe and snap at each other all day, and Arthur was tired of playing referee. 

Once they were just outside the trees, Arthur motioned for them to stop.

"Listen, let's let Kieran go in first with the Arabian and present her to Dutch. You and I can go in after, John, that way he doesn't get to start in on questions about where we've been before he gets a chance to see her."

They all nodded in agreement, and Kieran nervously headed into camp. He still used no saddle, halter, or reins (she wouldn't tolerate them yet), just guiding her with his knees. John and Arthur followed at a discreet distance.

Charles was on watch-- he almost didn't see them coming in, craning his neck after Kieran as he was.

"Arthur! John!" he greeted them when he finally turned, his eyes wide. "Did you-- where did you find that horse?"

"Up on the mountains." explained John. "She's a gift for Dutch."

Charles raised an eyebrow, immediately understanding. "Well, let's hope it works."

They rode past him and stopped at the very edge of the clearing, still hanging back, and watched the proceedings.

Kieran rode the white Arabian straight into camp, bold as anything. "Mr. Van der Linde!" he called, as members of the gang slowly dropped what they were doing and drifted over to look at the horse. She seemed to preen under the attention, stamping a hoof and tossing her head.

"That's quite a horse there, son!" called Sean. "Get her yourself, did you?"

"Yeah, I did--"

"You forgot to steal the tack, too." said Uncle, laughing.

"I didn't steal her, I caught her! Up in the mountains--"

"Well, you caught a pretty fine animal there for yourself!" congratulated Sadie. Kieran shook his head.

"She ain't for me, she's for--"

But Dutch was coming out of his tent then, and silence fell in the camp. He stared at Kieran and the horse, eyes wide and questioning.

"What is this?" he asked quietly.

Kieran slid off of her back, and guided her over to Dutch with just a hand on her neck.

"She's yours, Mr. Van der Linde. Dutch. I- I found her for you up in the mountains. I just wanted to show you-- I swear, Dutch, you and this gang, you're my family now, truly! I know that means everything to you, I just wanted-- it means everything to me too, I mean it! She- she's the best thing I could find, to show you. If I had a better gift--"

"I don't think one exists, son." breathed Dutch, not taking his eyes off the Arabian. He reached out and patted Kieran on the shoulder. "This is... quite a horse."

He stepped forward and looked her deep in the eyes-- and just as Arthur had hoped, she settled for him almost immediately, stepping forward to put her nose against his outstretched hand like she knew she already belonged to him. A grin slowly spread across his face as he stroked her.

"My Countess." he whispered, just looking at her for a long moment. Then he gave himself a shake. "Kieran, go get her put up with the rest of the horses. Next to the Count, if you will, please."

He looked up then, and saw Arthur and John waiting at the edge of the trees. He jabbed a finger towards Arthur and turned to go back into his tent as Arthur quickly dismounted and crossed the clearing to follow him, closing the tent flap behind.

"Arthur." Dutch started quietly. "I assume that you arranged this?"

Arthur shrugged. "You really think I could catch a horse like that, Dutch? It was all Kieran-- he found her, tracked her, caught her and tamed her. Well, half-tamed her, she's still a bit wild."

"She'll settle for me." said Dutch immediately, unconcerned. He started packing his pipe, just standing silently for a moment. Then he sighed.

"I am not so big a man, Arthur, as to be unable to admit when I was wrong. I gave that boy a very-- _callous_ treatment, and in return he brought me a king's ransom on hooves. Many other men would have just cursed me and left."

Kieran didn't have anywhere else to go, but Arthur kept that to himself and just nodded.

"I have been doing some reading, Arthur." Dutch said, lighting his pipe.

"Miller again?"

"No, some ancent Roman writings, as a matter of fact. They had certain practices that may be familiar to you, Arthur."

Arthur felt himself turning red. "Dutch..." he muttered, embarrassed.

Dutch just waved a hand at him. "We don't have to discuss it, Arthur, just know that I am not so disapproving of your... _relationship_ as you might think. As I said, I was only trying to protect you from someone I thought we couldn't trust."

Arthur forced himself to nod again.

"However," Dutch continued. "While I may accept you, ah, continuing the Roman tradition, as it were, that is not an attitude that prevails in our modern times."

Arthur was silent, feeling slightly afraid. Dutch puffed on his pipe, looking at Arthur consideringly.

"Discretion." he finally said, quietly. "That is what I ask of you, Arthur, is to just be discreet, while you are in camp. I do not need anyone here distracted by this."

"Of course, Dutch." said Arthur, hardly daring to believe it. "You won't be hearing any more about it."

"Oh, I think I will." said Dutch with a snort. "Some in camp are not as admiring of the Romans as I am. But they will learn to keep it to themselves-- as long as you two keep it to yourselves, if you understand."

"Perfectly, Dutch." said Arthur. "...thank you."

Dutch shook his head and opened the tent flap again, gesturing Arthur out. "Don't thank me, son, it's the least I can do for you at this time."

Arthur stepped back out into camp, feeling oddly free-- until he saw Micah standing there waiting for them.

For Dutch, more accurately, since he slid right past Arthur and started to speak in a hiss.

"Dutch! You can't really be welcoming that snake back just because of a horse, he's still an O'Driscoll--"

But Dutch turned and fixed him a glare. In a voice loud enough to ring through the entire camp, he thundered " _That is enough!_ I, and all of us, already have to live with the memory of what those _devils_ have taken from us, and I will not tolerate hearing that name in my camp any longer! I simply will not listen to it! That boy is not an O'Driscoll-- not anymore!"

Micah stepped back, looking shocked for a moment-- and then was oozing back up to Dutch. "Oh, of course, Dutch, you know I trust your judgement more than anything, I was only trying to be cautious--"

"And I admire that, Micah, but it is no longer necessary." said Dutch shortly.

"Of course, Dutch." Micah melted away, giving Arthur a resentful look over his shoulder as he left. Dutch watched him go, his expression unreadable, then turned back to Arthur.

"Spend a little time around the fire tonight, will you? You've been... distant, Arthur. I understand why, but do make an effort tonight if you can."

Arthur nodded. "Of course, Dutch."

But first, he had to see Kieran. He left Dutch and went over to the horses, where Kieran was contentedly brushing the Arabian-- the Countess-- and humming to himself. He dropped the brush when he saw Arthur approaching.

"Arthur!" He called quietly. "What- what did Dutch say to you? I heard him telling Micah not to call me O'Driscoll anymore-- that- that's good, right?"

Arthur tried to be serious, but felt a smile creeping over his face. "It worked, I think-- he's willing to trust you now, but he says that we need to be discreet around camp."

Kieran gave him a doubtful look. "Can you do that, Arthur? You're... not very good at hiding things."

"No, I am not." Arthur agreed. "But he said discreet, not secret. I imagine it's alright for you to sit next to me at the fire, long as you're not in my lap or something."

Kieran turned pink. "I don't ever sit in your lap, Arthur."

"You could." Arthur pointed out.

"Not in camp." Kieran said quickly.

"Right." Arthur agreed. "Not in camp. But you should come over to the fire with me, I'm suppsed to be friendly tonight, Dutch's orders."

"Maybe another night, Arthur." Kieran told him quietly. "I want to make sure the Countess gets settled in, she's still a bit nervous. I also haven't seen Branwen in a while... and- and besides, I'm sure everyone wants to talk to you, not me."

Arthur didn't like that, but--

"Whatever you say, Kieran." he agreed. He started to reach a hand out to him, but Kieran pulled away. 

"Discreet, Arthur." Kieran reminded him gently. Arthur nodded reluctantly. 

He didn't like that at all. 

But Kieran was right, and Arthur told himself this was just the start of learning to live with it. He gave Kieran a rather stiff nod, and then turned to walk to the fire, where his companions were waiting for him.

They were both back home again, and that would have to be enough for now.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the game does not do a good job (in my opinion) of making it clear just how serious a crime stealing livestock or horses was at the time. (Not to mention burning crops!) At that point in history, anyone caught doing it was very much in risk of swift vigilante justice, not just getting a bounty they could pay off at the nearest post office.  
> This chapter was also very quick to write since it actually involves a couple of game missions, so there may be some specific spoilers ahead (although I've changed some details around). Enjoy!

Arthur seemed to be on his way to ruining this relationship as thoroughly as he did the last one. It made him wonder all over again if anything that happened with Mary had really been her fault at all, or just Arthur, doing what he did best and making a mess out of his and everyone else's lives.

He and Kieran had not been getting along since they'd come back with the Countess. Dutch had only said that they needed to be discreet, but Kieran clearly had a different idea of discretion than Arthur did, and it apparently involved never being seen together in camp. Or even looking at each other, since every time he caught Arthur so much as glancing over he gave him a frown and turned away.

He'd even snapped at Arthur a few times. The first time hadn't seemed so bad. Arthur just accidentally bumped into him coming around a tree, but Kieran had hissed "Dunno how you didn't see me when you're watching all the damn time!" and given a shocked Arthur a scowl that gave him a glimpse of the hellcat John had spoken of up in Colter.

The second time was worse-- Arthur could see Sean going to mess with Kieran again, but hadn't even gotten close enough to hear what he said before Kieran suddenly turned and gave Sean a punch straight to the mouth, lightning-quick. Sean had only started laughing uproariously, but Kieran had turned to see Arthur standing there and just glared at him. He'd tried to talk to Kieran about it later, but only got "I can handle it myself, Arthur!" in almost a snarl by way of response.

Most of Arthur was convinced he must be doing this wrong, somehow, but there was still that small part that was starting to seethe at Kieran. After all they'd been through now, and all the work to come back to camp, this was how Kieran wanted to treat him? 

Still, more than anything Arthur just wanted a chance to be near him again. He finally managed to catch his eye one night before he headed out to the trees, to the spot they'd made love in before, and Kieran soon followed. He thankfully didn't seem angry at Arthur at all-- but he was in such a rush, his kisses hurried, almost harried. He had always seemed impatient when they were together like this, but this time it overwhelmed Arthur until he finally snapped at Kieran himself.

"Why the hell are you always in such a hurry to get away from me?" he growled, and Kieran pulled back from him, startled. For a moment Arthur was worried he'd hurt him, but then he saw the anger on Kieran's face.

"I ain't trying to get away from you, Arthur, I'm trying not to get caught again! You already forget what happened last time? Why can't you be reasonable?"

"Reasonable?" Arthur hissed, realizing with a sinking feeling that they were having a fight but feeling helpless to stop it. "I'm the one being unreasonable? You won't even look at me now, after all the work we did just so that we could come back here!"

"All the work _I_ did! _I_ caught that horse, I had to come up with the idea and then track it and catch it and tame it myself, and now _you_ can't even manage to keep your eyes in your head!"

"And taking you out on jobs with me when no else would give you a chance don't count for nothing at all, I suppose? Besides, Dutch already knows now! He only said we had to be discreet, not secret--"

"You don't know what people mean when they say 'discreet' about this kind of thing, Arthur, they mean they don't want to see it at all! They want to pretend it don't exist, and you're doing a pretty poor job of it, I gotta say!"

Arthur was confused. "What? That ain't it at all--"

"Yes, it is. You don't know cause you've never done this before, but I do."

"Never done what?" 

"Been with another man, Arthur! People don't just accept-- look, do you know why I was kicked out of the army?" His angry eyes were glittering at Arthur in the moonlight, looking hard and distant.

"No." Arthur answered heavily.

"Because I got caught in my captain's bed. He didn't get his stuff packed, Arthur, only me! And you know how I lost that steady stable work I managed to find after that?"

"Got caught with the stablemaster's son?" Arthur guessed. He didn't like how this conversation was going.

"Good guess!" Kieran congratulated him, unsmiling. "Except I wasn't even in his bed, he just kissed me behind the barn and his father thrashed both of us within an inch of our lives when he saw. I had to wait for the bruises to be gone from my face before I could even go looking for more work around that town, everyone was talking. Oh, and of course, very recently I got followed out to the woods with you and then beaten for it _again_!"

The black eye Dutch had given him had faded enough that Arthur couldn't see it anymore in the darkness under the trees, but he knew that in the daylight the yellowed remains of the bruise was still visible.

"But-- Dutch already knows--" Arthur realized he was repeating himself but couldn't think of any other response. "So- it should be fine now--"

"My captain told me it would be fine, that he'd take the fall for me. That stableboy told me his father would never find us. How many times do you have to be told 'it's gonna be alright' and have it be a lie before you stop believing it? Please try to understand, Arthur!"

"I don't understand any of this!" Arthur growled, knowing it was the wrong thing to say but feeling helpless to stop it from coming out of his mouth. "You told me the other men you'd been with only wanted to see you at night, and didn't want you around during the day-- now I want you around and you're angry at me! Isn't that what you wanted?"

"It's-- I thought I wanted that, Arthur! But just because I trust you doesn't mean I trust anyone else here-- and do you know what they're already calling me in camp now?"

"Not O'Driscoll, anymore." Arthur pointed out.

"No, we took care of that-- only now they call me 'Arthur's boy' all the time!"

"Well, what's wrong with that?" asked Arthur, feeling slightly offended.

" _I just want to be Kieran!_ "

Arthur stepped back, feeling like he'd been slapped. Kieran kept talking.

"Every damn person I have ever known has died on me, Arthur! You've said yourself that you'd die for this gang-- so what happens one day, when you go out riding for Dutch and catch a damn bullet? If I'm nothing but 'Arthur's boy' and Arthur Morgan ain't here anymore, then what the hell am I? You think anyone else here gives a damn about me just cause I brought Dutch a horse?!"

Arthur could only be silent.

"Of course I _want_ to be around you, Arthur, I love you!" Kieran's voice was quiet now, pleading. "But--"

"But what?" Arthur asked, suddenly feeling like it was difficult to even get the words out.

"But- but I'm _scared_ , Arthur!"

They just stared at each other for a long moment in the dark, Kieran's chest heaving. 

And then he was gone, running back through the trees to camp, leaving Arthur standing there alone.

\- ...-

At least, Arthur reflected as he huddled in the back of a wagon full of moonshine, he had this damn business with the Grays and the Braithwaites to distract him.

Lucky him. 

Up front, Sean chattered away to the Gray guard as they crossed the grounds of Caliga Hall. Arthur tried to peer between their legs but couldn't catch more than a few glimpses of stately old buildings and neat rows of tobacco, and just settled back to wait, frustrated. It seemed like an eternity before they finally made it into the barn and safely out of sight, and Arthur had to ignore a cramp in his leg as he crept out of the wagon and up behind the guard before taking his frustration out on the man's neck.

Sean chuckled after he helped Arthur drag the body out of sight and get the barn doors shut. "Really did a number on that one, didn't you? Got some pent-up anger, Arthur? Y'know, you really shouldn't bottle that up. Not good for you."

Arthur shot him a glare that only made him laugh harder.

"Oh, you're not still sore about this, are you?" said Sean, reaching up to rub his jaw where Kieran had punched him a few days before. "I told you before, I'm only ever teasing, y'know! And your boy's got quite a right hook on 'im, I think he can handle himself, Arthur."

"Don't call him that." Arthur growled. "Help me start unloading this moonshine."

He stalked to the back of the wagon and started pulling bottles out without waiting for Sean, who was still talking.

"What, I can't call him that? But I ain't supposed to call him O'Driscoll anymore neither, so what exactly--"

"His name, Sean!"

"Well, I suppose so, but--"

"Are you gonna help me with this or not?"

Sean held up his hands placatingly. "Aw, calm down, Arthur! You're bein' real sensitive today, y'know."

He finally came around the back of the wagon and Arthur shoved a case of bottles at him with more force than strictly necessary. But instead of getting annoyed, Sean just laughed again.

"Oh, but you _are_ real sensitive today, big man! Have a little quarrel, didja?"

Getting angry and denying it would only confirm Sean's suspicions, so Arthur kept unloading in a stony silence that just ended up accomplishing the exact same thing.

"I'll give you some advice, Arthur." said Sean cheerfully.

"You had better not."

Sean ignored his glare entirely and kept talking, as he usually did. "Well, it's not really surprising, is it? I mean, you can be a bit overbearing, can't you?"

"What the hell are you talking about?" Sean was starting to really try his patience.

"What do you mean, what am I talking about? Big man Arthur Morgan, always does things his own damn way and hang the rest of us, right? But maybe," he rubbed his chin in mock thoughtfulness. "Maybe the boy likes dealing out his own punches, eh?" 

"Why the hell do you even care, Sean?"

"Like I told Kieran-- us Irish boys have got to stick together!"

"Remind me-- was that before, or after he punched you in the mouth?"

Sean laughed heartily at that, completely ignoring the question. "Just go rest your eyes a bit, Arthur, I've got these bottles handled from here."

Arthur sat against one of the wagon wheels but stayed awake, too keyed up about their mission to sleep. 

Soon enough his night was full of the stink of moonshine fumes and burning tobacco, and he wasn't thinking of anything but escaping Caliga Hall and its burning fields.

\- ...-

He and Sean made it out of there alright, on the backs of stolen draft horses. Arthur wasn't sure he'd ever get the stink of burning tobacco plants out of the clothes he'd worn that night; the girls complained mightily at having to wash them. He told them to just be thankful it was a one-time sort of a job. 

But barely two days later Arthur was sent back to Caliga Hall, to meet John in the daylight this time on some kind of business.

He walked Beatrice up to the front gate, feeling nervous out in the open. Surely no one here would recognize him from the other night...

"Can I help you there?" called one of the guards, not looking particularly interested in being helpful.

"Sure..." Arthur answered. "I was supposed to meet my business partners here. They arranged a meeting, I believe, about some horses?"

"Fella with a scar, a Mexican, and their buddy?"

"Yes, sir." answered Arthur, wondering who John and Javier had brought with them.

"Out by the stables." the guard answered shortly, gesturing with one arm.

"Thank you." said Arthur with a nod and as much sincerity as he could muster, as he turned Beatrice to go. "Have a wonderful day now."

As Arthur approached the barn, he could hear John talking to Tavish Gray, the patriarch of the family. Standing quietly behind him was Javier-- and Kieran, too, Arthur realized in surprise.

John motioned Arthur forward and quickly introduced him to Tavish, who began telling them about some Braithwaite horses they were supposed to be stealing.

"Five thousand!" Tavish declared was what they could expect to get. "These are prized horses."

Arthur could see Kieran's eyebrows shoot up and felt the first hint of doubt start to enter his mind.

John seemed doubtful too. "Five thousand?" he repeated. "For horses?"

But in the end he shook on it anway, and the four of them made their way out of the stables and back to their horses.

As soon as they were off the grounds Arthur spoke.

"What the hell are you doing here, Kieran?" he asked. "Didn't think John took you out on jobs!"

John answered him, calling back over his shoulder. "Hosea finally thought to ask him where he learned how to sell horses so damn well when he's never been rich enough to own more than one. Your boy's a horse thief, Arthur!"

Arthur stared at Kieran, who kept his eyes straight ahead of him but was slowly turning red. "Stealing horses, Kieran? Really?"

"Oh, you rob people too, Arthur!" he snapped defensively.

"Yeah, but I don't steal their damn animals! ...Usually, anyway." he added reluctantly, remembering that disastrous job with John and the sheep.

"Shut up, Arthur!" yelled John from in front. "We're stealing animals right now! And we need to figure out how we're gonna play this."

Arthur brought his mind back to the task at hand. "Place is well guarded, so there ain't no point in blasting in there. We'll make 'em think we're there looking to purchase."

"Four armed men?" questioned Javier.

"You'd be armed if you was about to spend five thousand on horses. We should go in the back way, though, avoid too many questions."

"Sounds fine." answered John. "Kieran, you got any thoughts on this? You're the veteran horse thief here."

"Well, I never stole horses like this, just riding up to somebody's house in the broad daylight!"

"Then how did you steal them?" asked Javier.

"Well, horses do like me... I usually just took one off the hitch at a saloon after the rider got drunk and then rode it away."

Javier barked out a laugh. "Oh, some veteran thief you are! I can see you're going to be a lot of help with this!"

"Hey, if somebody had asked me _before_ about how I stole 'em--"

John cut him off. "Shut up about all that, we're getting close!"

They let John talk to the guard at the back gate, and soon they were making their way up to the stables, keeping their pace slow and unsuspicious.

Then it was Arthur's turn to talk up the stablehand, giving him some story about a Saratoga stud farm. He waited til the man was out of sight of the stable door before jumping him.

John watched Arthur quietly set the body down. "Alright, bandanas on. Don't need nobody recognizing us."

He turned to Kieran. "Get these horses settled for us, will you? Since you're the damn horse whisperer here."

Kieran swiftly went from stall to stall, the stallions quieting quickly under his touch. Arthur, Javier, and John each grabbed a set of reins.

"Marston, help Javier get them tied up to Kieran's horse." Arthur directed. "Kieran, you're gonna lead the stallions."

The others nodded their agreement and quickly had the horses led out and tied up.

"Marston, you and Javier take point." said Arthur, once they were outside. "I'll cover up the back. If there's any problems, we regroup up at Clemens Cove."

Almost on cue came a problem-- a Braithwaite man hanging half over a fence, staring with bulging eyes and screaming " _What are you doing?!_ "

Suddenly they were all scrambling to get in the saddle, Arthur shouting at the other three to get going while he pulled out his rifle and began taking aim.

The next few minutes were a haze of shouting and gunfire, as they frantically galloped over the Braithwaite manor grounds and finally escaped through the trees and over the road. 

"See any more of 'em?" Arthur yelled ahead to the others. 

"No!" answered Javier. 

"Don't think so!" confirmed John. 

"Alright, let's get these horses to Clemens Cove."

"Hold on--" called Kieran, sounding worried. "I think we got a problem, John!"

"Oh yeah? And what's that?"

"These ain't five thousand dollar horses!"

"Don't matter." said Arthur. "I knew that old man didn't know what he was talking about, but as long as we get even a third of that--"

"We're not getting a third!" warned Kieran quickly. "We'll be lucky to get eight hundred, and that's only if your fence is dim!"

"Eight hundred?" repeated Javier. "Are you serious? You better not be putting us on!"

"Look, just let me do the talking when we get to the horse fence, alright?" said John. He sounded nervous to Arthur. "Clemens Cove is just over there. Let's get this over with."

They made their way over to an old abandoned property by the edge of Flat Iron Lake, bordered by a ruined stone wall. Arthur heard Kieran groan when they came in sight of the horse fence.

"Oh no, not these two..."

"You know them?" Arthur asked, surprised. Before Kieran could answer, the two men waiting by the wall caught sight of them.

"Well, lookie there, Clive!" One of them called. "Why, it's Kieran Duffy, that little Yankee stable girl we used to know! Which one of these boys is your new beau, missy?"

"Please shut up, Clay." answered Kieran, sounding humiliated. Arthur felt his lip curl, and the man's eyes snapped straight to him.

"That one, huh? Got yourself a big, strong one this time, didn't you?"

Arthur growled in response and started to speak, but was interrupted by John.

"Look, I don't give a shit about any of that, I'm just here about some horses! We heard you pay good prices."

Clay grinned at him. "Oh, we'll buy just about anything, Pop."

He jumped down off the wall and slowly approached them. "I know these horses... and they ain't yours. But I like ya, and I'll give ya...six hundred fifty for 'em."

Arthur shot a glance at Kieran, who just looked resigned now.

"I was told we could get up to five thousand dollars for 'em." John said.

"And I was told the moon was made of ladies' tears, only it ain't true! Not one little bit." responded Clay.

"But--"

"I like you boys." Clay continued, ignoring John's protest. "But I ain't got more than seven hundred on me. You want it, or you wanna ride them fellers into town, and maybe somebody'll hang you there?"

"We're gonna need more than that." Arthur tried, not wanting to give up.

Clay just shook his head. "I ain't got no more money, Pop. Check with little missy there if you don't think I'm doing a fair business, he knows the prices well enough."

John and Arthur looked over at Kieran, who just shrugged and shook his head.

Clay tossed the money to John. "Here, take it or leave it."

"Alright." muttered John.

"You goddamn fool, Marston!" Arthur hissed at him.

"Ain't no one round here got five thousand dollars, boys." Clay laughed as he and Clive came around to take the horses. "But nice meeting ya. See you boys again, I hope."

Arthur and the others were forced to leave then. It was obvious they wouldn't be getting any more money.

Javier turned to Kieran as soon as they were back on the road. "What the hell was that?"

"Wh- What do you mean? I didn't know it was gonna be Clay and his brother, you didn't tell me who the horse fence was! And I said you weren't gonna get that much for them--"

"But you're supposed to be the master horse seller, why didn't you help us get more?" asked Javier, accusingly.

"John said to let him do all the talking! Besides, I can't sell horses for _that_ much more than they're worth-- if you wanted a magician, you should have brought Trelawney."

"Whatever, _missy_." muttered Javier. Kieran turned almost purple, and Arthur quickly stepped in. If Kieran ever tried to punch Javier, it would _not_ go the same way it had with Sean.

"That's enough, Javier. Let outsiders fling the insults, we don't need to talk to each other like that."

Javier rolled his eyes and said something under his breath in Spanish. 

"C'mon, Javier, leave him be. He called it and we didn't, that's all there is to it." said John, still sounding disappointed. "Let's just get back to camp."

And so back they rode, all of them feeling some degree of fool.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few notes: 
> 
> First, this chapter _definitely_ has a specific spoiler for certain late-game dialogue, watch out if you haven't finished playing yet!
> 
> Second, to explain more about Kieran not knowing his own age since that probably seems a little crazy to modern readers: his parents were Irish immigrants, and in Ireland in the 1800s it wasn't actually that common to know your exact age or celebrate your birthday. And in America at the time, quite a lot of home births were never officially registered, so it wouldn't have been unusual for Kieran to have had a Certificate of Baptism with the Catholic Church but no actual birth certificate. And with poor parents likely working seven days a week and trying to travel to California at some point, his baptism could have been delayed for months or even years after he was born (still happens even in modern times for a whole variety of reasons), which is why he can't really narrow it down. The moar you know!

Arthur sat watching the sunrise from the shore of Flat Iron Lake, his thoughts too busy to sleep. 

He was still annoyed over being taken in by that yarn spun by Tavish Gray, but more than that he was still somewhat in shock over discovering that Kieran used to be a horse thief. A horse thief! Even Arthur and the others in the gang didn't usually (usually) bother with rustling livestock or horses-- robbing folk of their money might get you hanged by the sheriff, but robbing folk of their animals might get you shot and in a shallow grave without the sheriff ever being called out. 

He couldn't stop thinking-- what else didn't he know about Kieran?

As if on cue, he heard quiet footsteps approaching from the direction of camp. "You're not usually up this early." Kieran remarked from behind him.

Arthur didn't turn around. "I've been doing some thinking. I'd like to do some talking, too-- why don't we go on another fishing trip today? Maybe try to catch that bluegill."

"Long as we don't go up to the marsh again." Kieran agreed. "I'll go get the horses ready."

They were saddled up and headed out of camp with their poles while most of the camp was still sleeping. Lenny was on watch and just waved them out with nothing more than a yawn.

They made their way down to the fishing spot on the lake that they'd found before, and were soon casting their lines into the water. 

"So... you wanted to talk." Kieran ventured after a little while. 

"I did." said Arthur, slowly. "Cause y'know, I'd been thinking-- I don't really know that much about you. I mean, I know you, but I don't much about your past, other than stables and the Army and a few years with a gang of your own."

Kieran shrugged. "We weren't really a gang, exactly... but if you really want to know it all, I guess I can start back from the beginning."

"I want to know, Kieran."

"Well... alright. I already told you that my mammy and pappy died when I was real young-- not sure how old I was exactly, but younger then ten, I guess. I didn't exactly get a birthday party every year. I did know when I'd been baptized, but not when I was born.

"After they died, I kept working at the stables I was already at for several years, until the owner started gambling too much and had to sell off half his horses. He didn't need so many hands then, and I got kicked out and lost my room and board. That's- that's when I stole a horse for the first time. I was desperate, Arthur! I couldn't find any other work in town, I didn't have enough of a beard to join the Army yet, and I was running out of food pretty quick. And while I'd still been at the stables I'd heard of a man outside town that would buy any horse you were willing to sell. So... I waited outside the saloon where there was some cowboy keeping himself company with a bottle of whiskey, and once his head was down on the bar I just hopped in the saddle of his horse and rode off with her. It wasn't very hard, honestly, and I got forty dollars for her. It wasn't near as much as I should have got, but I didn't know much about fencing horses then.

"I was pretty afraid to stay in town after that, though, so that's when I first started camping out. I'd fish as much as I could, try to do odd jobs or day labor when I could find it, and when the money and food ran out I'd steal another horse. It went on like that for a while, until I had enough of a beard growing in and looked a little older so I could join up.

"But the Army was a mistake. I'm no soldier, and they could tell pretty quick, but it still went... alright, I guess, for a while. I was keeping up, at least. Then I met Captain Roberts-- he was a lot older than me, and the first man I was ever with. Oh, he'd say the sweetest things during pillowtalk, but he never kissed me and he'd never so much as look at me during the day-- 'Regulations, Kieran. You understand.'-- but I didn't, not really. He had special quarters in the barracks and said that he paid somebody off so he wouldn't get midnight inspections, but one night he did. And I was there. So then I got some lashes and I wasn't in the Army anymore.

"After that I was on my own again for a while. I went back to how I'd been living before-- camping and fishing, stealing a horse once in a while. I moved around more, since I was afraid of getting caught. And then finally, I found a town with a stable in need of a hand, and I had steady work again, with room and board. It was going real well for a while-- and then the stablemaster's son, Matthew, got sweet on me and started asking me to go behind the barn with him. We didn't do much more than kissing, and that only a couple times. The last time, he swore his father was out of town, and, well... he wasn't. He thrashed us good and did it in front of the other hands, so everybody in town heard about what happened and it made it hard for me to find work. Of course I got kicked out of the stables. Didn't much like kissing after that, for a long time.

"So I went back to camping, and that's when I found Dan and Charlie. They were already camping together, and looking for a third, for safety's sake. We got along and decided to go it together. I kinda exaggerated a little when I told Sean they were outlaws I fell in with. I mean, they did rob some people sometimes, but we all also did a lot of odd jobs and day labor, as well as fishing and trapping. Dan used to get farm work during lambing season. I was never sweet on either of them, but they didn't much care if I came back to camp every single night as long as I was adding to the pot. So, I started finding company in some of the different towns we travelled to across the States. I figured, I'm not the marrying kind anyway, might as well have myself a night here and a night there if I can get it. After things had gone so damn well with Roberts and Matthew I thought that's all I could expect. And I was right, for a long time. Some of them would say sweet things to me like Roberts used to, and there were some that I saw for weeks at a time, but mostly it was just a few nights here and there, and no matter what it was always 'Don't mention it in the morning, please, Kieran'.

"I was even down here near Rhodes for a while-- sold horses to Clay and his brother a few times. There's this farmer that used to live southeast of here, known to be not so much the marrying kind himself, and I was seen sneaking out his backdoor a couple times. If I'd known he already had a reputation-- but I didn't, and now I get called 'girl' and 'missy' by those two even years later. Didn't think I'd ever see them again, honestly. We moved around so much, I don't think we were ever in the same place twice before. 

"But one night we were camped east of Strawberry, and the O'Driscolls found us. They told us 'Ride or die', like I told Sean. Dan chose to ride... Charlie chose to fight and die. So then Dan and I were with the O'Driscolls. We tried to get away from them one night, but apparently since we'd joined up our horses now belonged to them, and trying to ride away was stealing from them. So they shot Dan, and then it was just me with the O'Driscolls. I never told them that I was a horse thief, so they just had me working in the stable. Colm has a few core members of his gang that he goes robbing with, but he also hires of a lot of disposable foot soldiers to do jobs for him, and plenty of drudges like me just doing work around their camps and hideouts. 

"There were a couple of men in his gang that I started trading favors with-- one, Ben, pretty frequently, the other one just when he was piss-drunk. They gave me food when I would have went hungry and better clothes against the cold, sometimes even a little money when I asked for it, and they promised to protect me. They didn't. Colm found me with Ben one night, and decided that he'd take what Ben was getting and more besides, and I wasn't going to be getting any damn favors out of it. I told him I didn't like that and he told me he didn't care. He- he used to think it was so damn f- funny to force me over my own fucking saddle and make jokes about riding me like a horse-- asshole! I tried to fight him one time, and he threatened to cut off Branwen's head and nail it to the stable wall where I'd have to look at it every day--"

"Jesus!" Arthur had been trying not to interrupt, but couldn't help exclaiming in horror at that. He quickly shut his mouth and motioned for Kieran to continue.

"Well, anyway, I didn't fight him much after that. We ended up in that camp not far from Colter last winter, and he wasn't feeding the horses well. I didn't like that and actually talked back to him about it. I was sure I'd get punished that night-- but that was the day I got taken by the Van der Linde gang."

He glanced sideways at Arthur but kept talking.

"They were enemies of the O'Driscolls, and they hated Colm more than anything. They tied me to a tree for two damn weeks to get me to talk-- I was deathly afraid of Colm coming after me if I did, but after they threatened me with a pair of gelding tongs I gave in, finally. One of them, a man named Arthur, I could tell was sweet on me. I thought I'd be able to exchange favors with him like I did with Ben, but it turns out he didn't want that. I ended up saving his life, mostly on accident, and Dutch Van der Linde agreed to let me stay. And then... Arthur took me out on a job, selling horses. I was- I was afraid to tell him I used to steal 'em, no one likes a horse thief, y'know? But, he paid me fairly for my work, and when I told him about Colm he put his arms around me, and he still didn't ask for nothin'. And then he drew a picture of me, and showed me his secret journal, and told me he'd teach me to read-- you still haven't taught me how to write my name, Arthur, I haven't forgotten about that-- and I thought, maybe it'll be alright. So I snuck into his tent that night, not even wanting any favor in return, just some company, and- and he was so sweet to me, and taught me to kiss him, but-- I was just so scared when I woke up. Scared of what he wanted, scared of what I wanted, so I tried to forget about it and I was going to tell him to forget about it too. But before I could get a chance he- he told me that he wanted me around, and asked me to trust him. I don't know why, but I decided to try. And he was still so sweet-- and funny, and brave, and stupid sometimes, I- I don't know. Before I knew it we were in a hotel room, and I was lettin' him do things I swore I'd never let anyone do after Colm, and he said he loved me. And I realized I loved him, too.

"But... but we got caught together. Dutch was furious, and accused me of seducing Arthur. That way it could be my fault, you see, so that once he got rid of me he'd get to keep Arthur around and pretend it never happened. But Arthur didn't like that, and made Dutch promise to let me stay. We caught the most beautiful horse up in the mountains, and gave it to Dutch, as a peace offering, which he accepted. But he told Arthur and I that we needed to be 'discreet', which I knew meant 'keep it out of sight'. But, well... Arthur didn't like that. And it hurt too bad to explain that people aren't going to accept us, and that I was still scared of these folk he calls family, so I just hoped he'd understand without me having to. But he didn't. And then I got so frustrated that I yelled at him, and- and now we haven't really talked in days. And I miss him."

He fell silent, biting his lip as he stared down at the pole in his hands, bait long since taken by a fish. 

"You shouldn't have had to explain." said Arthur, quietly. "I'm a damn fool but I still should have understood. I saw the way Dutch reacted when he found out, and the way he wanted to blame it all on you. I also knew the way everyone's treated you, and I knew already it didn't really help to have me watching and interfering. Even Sean told me to let you deal your own punches, and when I have to take advice from Sean MacGuire... hell! It's just-- I hate hiding, Kieran!"

"I know, Arthur."

"It just don't make no sense to me! I can rob who I want, shoot who I want, and don't nobody give a damn-- least not in this gang-- but I can't love who I want? That's just-- senseless!"

Kieran just looked away, obviously frustrated. 

"Aw, I'm sorry, Kieran." apologized Arthur. "I don't mean for it to sound like I'm yelling at you about this. It obviously ain't your damn fault."

"I know it hurts to have to do it, Arthur." said Kieran quietly. "Trust me, I know."

"I know you do. I know a lot better, now."

They were silent for a few minutes. 

"Well, what about you?" Kieran asked. 

"Huh? What about me?"

"Well, you know... what's your story?"

"Ah, ain't much to tell, and I ain't as good a storyteller as you. My momma died when I was just a kid, and my daddy didn't die soon enough, that son of a bitch. I fell in with Dutch and Hosea, and they raised me. Taught me to read, taught me to rob-- hell, taught me every damn thing I know, just about. Dutch did that for a lot of people in our gang, found 'em when they were abandoned and in need, raised 'em up to be what they are now. I wish... I wish you coulda seen that side of him, instead of the side you have seen."

Arthur was quiet then, considering whether to tell Kieran--

"I had a son." he said suddenly, surprising himself.

"You did?" asked Kieran, surprised. Then Arthur's use of the past tense obviously registered. "Oh... you- you did."

Arthur reeled in his line and started to re-bait it. 

"What was his name?" asked Kieran softly.

"Isaac. His mother Eliza named him. I loved that little boy, he was- he was a good kid. I tried to do right by them as best I knew how at the time, but... I was already living this life, y'know? I gave her money, came by every couple of months. Then they were killed in a robbery and I came back to two crosses in the yard."

"I'm sorry, Arthur."

"Ah..." Arthur cast his line back out. "It was years ago, now. Still, makes me damn angry when I see John Marston and the way he treats Jack-- 'he might not even be mine', what a crock of shit."

They were silent again for a while, just looking out over the water, before Kieran spoke.

"What- what about Mary?"

"Mary?" said Arthur, a little surprised. "What do you know about Mary?"

"Everyone talks about her. John said I look like her."

"Huh!" Arthur hadn't thought about it before. "I guess I do have a weakness for black-haired beauties, then."

"Aw, Arthur, I ain't..."

"Oh, shut up. You are if I say you are. Mary, though... she was too damn good for me, I guess. Came from some high-class family, just- just a different part of society, y'know. And look at what I was offerin' to her-- a camp out in the woods, running from the law... dumbest thing she ever did was waste her time on me. She went and married another man. He's dead now, but... she still don't want me. Smart of her." He still couldn't keep the bitterness out of his voice. 

Kieran reeled in his line, put his pole down, and looked at Arthur. "Well... if you understand now why I want to be secret, I guess... I guess I understand why you want to be close."

Arthur reeled his own line back in, too. "Mostly, I think I just don't want you to leave me. But... I do want to be close."

A wicked thought occured to him. "How far are we from camp, again?" he asked, slowly.

"Uh... pretty far." Kieran was turning pink, already understanding.

"Good. Cause I think I want to be close to you now." He tossed his fishing pole down on the sand. "This place gonna be secret enough for you?"

Kieran looked uncomfortable. "We're pretty far, but... what if someone comes looking for us?"

Arthur just grinned at him and shucked off his shirt as he started walking backwards into the lake.

"They won't see anything underwater, will they?" he motioned for Kieran to follow him.

"But- but Arthur, I can't swim!"

"We won't go that deep. I'll hold you up, c'mon."

Kieran glanced around nervously, then quickly shed his own shirt and followed Arthur into the water.

Arthur took his hands and slowly guided him out until they were in up to their shoulders and stopped there. Kieran clung to him nervously.

"C'mon, now, it's not so deep here." Arthur reached under the water and put his hands under Kieran's thighs, guiding him to put his legs around Arthur's waist. "See, just relax. Kinda feels like the water's holding you up, doesn't it?"

Kieran took a deep breath, his fingers digging into Arthur's shoulders. "Please don't let go of me." he whispered.

"I don't plan to, darlin'."

Kieran glanced towards shore, as if confirming they were really alone in the deserted section of lake they were in. Then he leaned forward and kissed Arthur-- taking his time, with none of his usual rush or impatience. It was Arthur who quickly deepened the kiss this time, missing Kieran and wanting to feel him again.

"Thought you liked to go slow." said Kieran, laughing quietly as Arthur finally pulled back from the kiss, gently sucking on Kieran's lower lip as he did.

"Well... maybe we can start things off a little faster but let them last a little longer, hmm?" Arthur chuckled along with him. "You're the one always goin' "faster, faster" in my ear once we really get going. Hard for me to stay in control when you do that, y'know."

"I know." said Kieran, blushing. "That's why I do it. I know that you don't like bein' in a hurry, but when you get in a rush like that, it makes me... kinda makes me feel like you can't get enough of me."

Arthur had to laugh at the way Kieran was turning scarlet up to the tops of his ears. "How do you still get so embarrassed, boy?"

"Oh, hush, Arthur." And then Kieran was kissing him again, effectively shutting him up.

Arthur pulled back from him just long enough to growl "But y'know, I really can't get enough of you." before leaning back into the kiss, pulling Kieran's body tightly against him, his skin feeling hot in the cool water.

He could feel Kieran already hard against him. "Here-- wrap your legs tighter around me, I need a free hand." Arthur whispered to him.

Kieran swallowed and shifted himself, looking a little worried. 

"I've still got a hand under you, you're alright. Besides, your feet can touch here, you're not gonna drown even if I did drop you. Trust me, alright?"

"I do trust you." Kieran whispered back. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Not sure how I'm supposed to get my pants off with my legs around you, though."

"Thought we'd leave 'em on, in case someone does come looking for us and we have to get out suddenly."

Kieran nodded, looking grateful. Arthur liked this-- both of them talking to each other about what they wanted, what they needed, being considerate of each other. He liked it a lot.

He reached his free hand between them and managed to open Kieran's trousers one-handed with a little fumbling. Then Kieran was sucking in a breath as Arthur reached in and wrapped his hand around his cock, beginning to stroke slowly. Kieran laid his head against Arthur's shoulder, just breathing as Arthur worked him.

"See, it's better this way." Arthur told him. "Let it build up." 

He kept his strokes long and slow, moving from root to tip each time, gently running his thumb over the head and hearing Kieran hiss through his teeth at the feeling. Which reminded Arthur--

"Use your teeth on me." he asked Kieran. "I liked that last time."

Kieran bit at his neck, very gently.

"Harder."

And then that bright point of pain again, making Arthur gasp and somehow sharpening everything else he felt.

"Yeah, like that." he groaned, quickening the pace of his hand. "I like that."

Kieran clung tighter to Arthur, tangled his hands in his hair while he gently sucked and kissed at the spot he'd bit him. Arthur had to suck in his breath at the feeling on his now-sensitive skin. 

Kieran's hips were starting to jerk slightly in time with each stroke, and Arthur could tell he was getting close.

"Ohh, talk to me, Arthur." he pleaded. "Say it, say it to me--"

"I love you." Arthur told him, hearing him gasp and continuing to slowly stroke him as he came. "I love you so much, Kieran."

Kieran shuddered and sagged weakly against Arthur, panting. He slowly put his feet back down on the lake bottom, Arthur gently helping to lower him.

"Maybe I'm the one who's a little impatient, now." he told Kieran, feeling his neglected cock throbbing in his now too-tight jeans. 

Kieran gave him a slightly tired grin and quickly reached forward to unbutton Arthur's pants and wrap those skilled fingers around him.

"Want me to go fast?" he whispered.

"Yeah, darlin', I want it now-- _fuck!_ " And then Arthur had to bite his lip as Kieran started working him quickly, giving a little twist of his hand at the end of every stroke that made Arthur see stars, tugging Arthur's jeans down slightly with his other hand to give himself room to reach in and start gently kneading at his sack at the same time.

"Ah, Kieran, that's-- _damn_ it, that's good, keep going!"

Kieran laughed rather breathlessly, and leaned forward to bite at his shoulder, hard. And then his vision was going white, and for a moment he was drowning with his head above the water.

He sucked in several deep breaths, gulping at the air as his knees trembled and threatened to collapse under him.

"Oh... Kieran..." he groaned, his vision slowly clearing to reveal Kieran's satisfied smirk.

"C'mon, Arthur, let's get back to shore before you drown yourself, alright?"

They slowly waded back through the water and retrieved their shirts from the sand. Kieran turned to Arthur after he picked up his fishing pole, a thoughtful look on his face.

"Arthur... I know you like watching me in camp, and I don't want to tell you to stop-- not really, you know that. But... maybe we can make a game of it?"

"A game?" Arthur repeated. "What do you mean?"

"Well, there's a couple of mirrors around camp. Bet we could find a few more to hang, too. Rules are: no watching me directly, but try to catch my reflection as much as you can. And I'll be looking back at you, too."

Arthur considered it. "Well, we can always try, I suppose."

"That's all I ask, Arthur." said Kieran, and they started walking the horses back to camp.

They parted before they made it there and walked in separately, Kieran first and then Arthur, carefully looking everywhere but at him.

But as he walked past his shaving kit on his way to his cot, he carefully tilted the mirror, seeing trees, horses, the scout fire-- and then Kieran, looking back at him with a smile.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE READ:
> 
> First, sorry for taking so long to update!! I was feeling very unsatisfied with my originally planned ending to this fic, so I went ahead and changed it! That took a while to figure out, and I also ended up with a lot more chapters planned out. I still have an fully planned outline, but you may notice that some of the tags and archive warnings have changed (see end of chapter notes for details). Finally, this fic will now end up with spoilers for the ENTIRE GAME, please be warned!

Arthur awoke shortly after dawn and stretched slowly, yawning. As he did every morning now, he glanced over in his shaving mirror.

There was Kieran, sitting over by the scout fire, mending some tack. Arthur just watched him for a minute or two, the way his dark hair reflected the sun's early rays and the way his face was serious with concentration. Eventually, though, he looked up and saw Arthur in the mirror, and he broke out in a smile that Arthur easily returned.

It had been a week since that day they'd gone fishing together on the lake, and already they'd established a new daily ritual. Arthur supposed that Kieran still rose early to do his chores, but he made certain now to be sitting over by the fire when Arthur awoke, in view of his mirror. It had seemed like such a small and silly thing when Kieran suggested it, but somehow it made Arthur feel like he wasn't waking up alone anymore.

Kieran suddenly looked up and away from him, as Sean's loud voice cut through the morning stillness. Even as far as he was, Arthur could still hear his every word clearly, while Kieran's quieter replies were only mumbles.

"Kieran! Have mercy and help me out, would ya?"

_Mumble?_

"Well, it's like this, y'see?"

Sean came in sight of the mirror as he was taking his shirt off, and Arthur had to wince. Even from that far away he could clearly see that Sean's shoulders and back were as red as his hair, and practically glowing with heat.

_Mumble mumble!_

"I don't need to hear all the things I'm as red as, Kieran, I can feel it well enough for myself! I fell asleep in the sun without my shirt on yesterday, it's just too damn hot down here! Don't you have that stuff you use when the horses are sunburned?"

_Mumble..._

Kieran got up and fetched something, than quickly returned and motioned for Sean to sit down.

"Ah, you're a lifesaver, Kieran, thanks for-- _JAY_ -sus Mary and Joseph, that's cold!"

_Mumble!_

"Oh, don't you preach at me, Kieran Duffy, like you never take the Lord's name in vain--"

_Mumble._

"What do you mean, 'my tone is worse', I suppose when you do it it's absolutely worshipful, then!"

Kieran turned around and gave Arthur a wry look in the mirror that made him burst out laughing. Shaking his head, he got himself up out of his cot and started pulling his boots on.

Dutch poked his head out from his tent. "What on earth is all that racket Sean's making?"

"Is he ever not making a racket?" Arthur chuckled.

"Not really, but he sounds upset about something in particular today."

"Ah, that idiot just fell asleep in the sun. He's gettin' fixed up now, just ignore him."

Dutch shook his head as he lit a cigar. "Well, if nothing else, I am glad to see _you_ in some better spirits, Arthur. I was a bit... worried about you, for a few weeks. You seem back to your old self, however."

Arthur shrugged. "Well... I guess I just had to get used to some things... and come to an understanding on some others."

Dutch nodded sagely, puffing his pipe. They both looked up as Molly started to approach from across the camp, a storm blazing in her eyes as she came straight for Dutch.

"Maybe I will have to ask your advice one of these days on how to reach such understandings." Dutch said dourly.

Arthur grimaced. He hadn't heard either Dutch or Molly say a kind word to each other in weeks. He wouldn't be surprised to wake up one morning and find she'd packed her things and left.

He quickly finished pulling on his other boot and got up off the end of his cot, not wanting to be witness to yet another fight between them. It bothered him to hear it now, the same way it bothered him to see the way John treated his son. Didn't these men know what they had?

He hurried past Molly as she barely gave him a glance, set on Dutch. As he got his horse ready, he looked back over at the scout fire-- Kieran and Sean were laughing now, Sean dodging Kieran's attempt to slap him on the shoulder. He'd really stood by his declaration of "Irish boys stick together"-- mostly because Kieran would put up with him and his endless talking more than anyone else in the gang, Arthur supposed.

He mounted Beatrice and trotted out of camp, giving a nod to Karen as he passed by her on watch.

He made his way at a leisurely pace up to Rhodes. Under Dutch's orders, he was to make no trouble in the backwards little town, so he always tried to keep things slow and calm and easy whenever he had reason to ride in, and kept a close watch on his temper.

But today he was only headed to the general store, stocking up on ammunition and a few different kinds of provisions that Pearson didn't have available in the chuck wagon back in camp. He hitched Beatrice up outside and quickly headed up the steps into the store.

Inside, he took his time browsing the shelves, making sure to get everything he might need. He didn't like coming to town too often; it wasn't that he ever _intended_ to disobey Dutch about causing trouble... but trouble often seemed to find him even without him helping it along. He'd already had a tense moment with some of those damn Raiders in the Gray's saloon, and he'd rather just avoid town altogether now if he could. 

So he went slowly from shelf to shelf, pulling down a few pieces of hard cheese, a selection of fresh fruit (he grinned to himself while he picked up a few ripe peaches), a selection of ammunition and other hunting supplies (another grin while he added several vials of gun oil to the pile), and some more ground coffee for while he was on the road. He considered buying some fishing tackle, but ended up deciding he could wait until the next time he was near Lagras-- the selection was better there.

He gathered up his various supplies and made his way to the front of the shop, where the clerk started adding up all his purchases.

"There isn't anything else that I can get you, sir?" he asked.

Arthur was about to say no, when he surprised himself by blurting--

"Ah, y'all don't got any mirrors, do ya?"

The clerk looked up in surprise. "Mirrors?"

"Sure!" said Arthur, somewhat embarrased. "Ah, y'know, like- like a hand mirror, or something like that..."

"Oh! Of course-- a present for the lady-love, I'm guessing?" The clerk raised an eyebrow at him.

"Ah, well..." Arthur could feel himself turning pink, which he supposed would be answer enough.

It seemed to be, for the clerk gave him a knowing smile. "Oh, sure, sure... I'm afraid I haven't carried any glass mirrors in quite a while, but I believe I still have a small polished-metal hand-mirror in the back storage room-- let me go and check."

He disappeared into the back of the store while Arthur absently drummed his fingers on the counter, and quickly returned with a small object held in his hands.

"I'm afraid it's been longer than I thought since I acquired it-- it's pretty tarnished now."

He handed it to Arthur, who held it up to the light. He could still see his reflection in it, but barely.

"A bit of polishing ought to bring it back to the old shine in no time at all-- and of course, I'll knock something off the price for the state it's in."

He looked at Arthur a bit anxiously, who gave him a shrug. "I don't mind puttin' in a little work polishing it. I'll take it."

Arthur slipped it into his pocket and carried the rest of his packages out tucked under his arm, before neatly packing them away in his saddlebags. He glanced around the town somewhat uneasily. It seemed that more people were watching him than usual, more people recognizing him the longer they stayed near Rhodes. Dutch seemed convinced that they were "hiding in plain sight", as he said, but Arthur didn't like getting so well known amongst the townsfolk.

He shrugged off the feeling and swung himself up in the saddle to make his way back to camp. Hopefully they'd be gone from here soon, and until then he'd just have to trust Dutch.

He debated on the ride back whether he would show Kieran the new mirror that morning, or keep it a secret until he'd finished polishing it back to an actual mirror shine. When he got back to camp, however, his mind was made up for him-- Kieran wasn't there. Arthur quickly looked over the horses and soon noticed that Branwen was gone, as well. Where on earth--

"Oh, Arthur!" It was Karen, giving him a lazy wave from where she was sitting at one of the round tables. Arthur quickly hitched up Beatrice and then made his way over.

"Hey, Karen." he said as he sat down. "Say, uh, you haven't seen--"

"He's with Sean." she said, pulling out a cigarette. Arthur started to pull out his matches to light it for her, but she pulled out one of her own before he could and deftly struck it with her thumb.

"I saw them together this morning," said Arthur, tucking his matchbook back into his pocket. "I didn't think Sean was going anywhere with that sunburn, though."

Karen puffed out a breath of smoke and shrugged. "Well, apparently Sean's got some big job in town that he's gonna be busy with soon, so today was gonna be his last chance for a while to rob this house he's had an eye on."

Arthur sat back, surprised. "What, he took Kieran house-robbing? He doesn't have any damn experience in that. Why wouldn't Sean take somebody else if he needed a partner?"

"Cause nobody else was here." Karen answered, gesturing around camp. "Everyone else is gone on some job or busy with something personal or something-- even you were gone!"

" _I_ was just at the damn store stocking up, and if Sean had waited an hour, he'd have somebody with him who actually knew what they were doing."

"They'll be _fine_ , Arthur, quit worrying. Sean might be an idiot, but he has robbed a house before, you know. Hell, I've robbed a house before. Ain't that hard to pull off." Karen rolled her eyes as she lightly scolded him. 

Arthur forced himself to relax. Karen was right. Sean wasn't actually that bad on a job as he kept his damn mouth shut... and didn't have to shoot anything.

"They are both absolutely terrible shots, though." Arthur pointed out to Karen, feeling some of his worry return.

She shook her head at him. "So? If you rob it the right way, you don't have to shoot nobody."

"Well, I guess so." Arthur agreed reluctantly. Not like he could go running after them anyway, he told himself. And even if Sean was an idiot, Kieran wasn't, was he? Arthur would just have to trust him.

"Thanks, Karen." He gave her a nod as he stood up from the table. At least he had something to occupy him, he thought to himself as he walked over to the chuck wagon and began digging amongst the supplies.

"Looking for something?" Pearson turned around from where he was cutting up meat for the night's stew.

"Well, I was trying to-- found it!" Arthur help up the small container he'd been looking for.

"Bicarbonate of soda?" asked Pearson, looking at the label. "You can take that whole thing, I've got plenty more. Er, what are you using it for? If you don't mind my asking."

Arthur shrugged. "Ah, just have something I wanna polish up, is all..."

He suddenly thought of something. Pulling out the little mirror, he flipped it over in his hands and confirmed what he remembered from the shop. It was clasped around the edge with only a thin bit of unadorned metal, with no case or decoration.

"Say, Pearson," Arthur said, quietly. "You, uh, you wouldn't be able to make a case for this, would you?"

Pearson set down his knife and took the mirror from Arthur's outstretched hand. "What, out of leather? Sure, I guess so. Might take me a day or so... bit longer if you want it decorated on the back."

"What kind of decoration?" Arthur asked, watching as Pierson pulled out a piece of new, unmarked leather and began to trace the mirror's shape onto it with a pencil he pulled out of his shirt. "This is a bit different than the satchels you've made me, I'm not entirely sure what you could even do with it..."

Pearson gave him a slightly disdainful look as he passed the mirror back, the tracing finished. "Anything you can draw, Mr. Morgan, I can carve into leather."

"Well!" said Arthur, his mind immediately conjuring an array of ideas and designs that he could use. "Thank you kindly, Mr. Pearson, I expect I'll have to think about it a bit."

Pearson picked his knife up again and went back to preparing dinner. "Well, don't take too long. I can't start carving until I get a picture to work off of."

Arthur thought deeply about it while he went back to sit at the table by his wagon and mixed up some polishing paste. Suddenly, this seemed more important than before. It wasn't just a little gift that Arthur picked up in town; it would be something personalized, from Arthur to Kieran. He was probably making far too much of it, but he was already anxious about picking the right design.

He reminded himself that he had to finish polishing the damn thing first, and sighed as he picked up his cloth and went to work. It was incredibly tedious, and left Arthur's mind free to think while he steadily rubbed away the tarnish.

What should he choose... A horse? That seemed obvious. In what pose, though, standing, rearing, a horse's face? Branwen's face? Arthur wasn't sure he could draw well enough to make a design that would still be recognizable after Pearson had carved it in the leather.

Maybe a horse was too obvious anyway. Arthur should probably put more thought into it than that, shouldn't he? He wanted Kieran to be reminded of him when he pulled it out, so maybe a symbol associated with Arthur instead would be better. He had several of his guns carved with the image of a buck... but that didn't seem right. It didn't really match Kieran, and Arthur didn't even use it much himself besides on his guns.

Maybe some initials? Kieran's own, or perhaps both of theirs together. He frowned as he kept up the polishing, his elbow starting to ache. Besides the fact that he might be too damn embarrased to ask Pearson for an A+K in leather, he still hadn't taught Kieran the alphabet. He wouldn't even be able to read it.

He promised himself that he'd finally start giving Kieran lessons when he got back. It would be difficult to find time to leave camp regularly for it, though. Maybe he'd ask Hosea to start teaching him in the meantime. Or hell, let Kieran take Mary Beth up on her offer, since Arthur didn't have reason anymore for the stupid jealousy that had made him tell Kieran not to in the first place.

He stopped working on the mirror and stretched out his fingers. Felt like ages he'd been sitting there; surely it couldn't be that far from done. He used a clean corner of his rag to wipe away at the polish and reveal the reflective surface.

And reflective it was once more-- Arthur could see his own face clearly now, glaring tiredly up at him from the table. Satisfied, he cleaned up the rest of the polish and put away his supplies, realizing as he did that the sun was close to setting, and the stew Pearson had been preparing earlier was ready. He went and retrieved a bowl before returning to his wagon, sitting on the edge of his cot as he ate.

He had to think of something better than just a horse design, it wasn't like that was the only thing about Kieran that he knew. But the only other thing that popped into his head while he ate was fishing, and he refused to have Pearson carve a fish. It wasn't... well, romantic wasn't a word Arthur really used that often. It wasn't very sweet, as Kieran would probably say.

Frustrated, he downed the last of his stew and set the bowl aside with one hand as he grabbed his journal with the other. He flipped through the pages, glancing at the various sketches he'd done of the plants, wildlife, and local landscapes.

He stopped flipping on a page close to the front. It was only a few entries before the sketch he'd made of Kieran that first night, and it was one of the ones they'd looked at together. Herons, three different kinds, that Kieran had reverently hovered his fingers over like he might scare them into flight off the page. The same herons that lived out in the swamp by Canebreak Manor, as a matter of fact. 

Finally decided, Arthur turned to a blank page in his journal and traced around the mirror to give himself a space to work in, then began to draw. He was a quick artist; even with the way he worried over every line he was done in less than half an hour, and carefully used his knife to cut the page out.

He took it over to the wagon, where Pearson was already cutting out the leather for the case while he nipped at a bottle of whiskey, and held it out almost shyly.

Pearson took it from him and squinted at it in the firelight. "Ah, herons, eh? Been seeing a lot of those down here... didn't really think you'd want a memento of this godforsaken place, but whatever you like, Mr. Morgan. That's a lot of small detail on the feathers, though. I'll have it for you in maybe three or four days."

"That's fine." Arthur said, already feeling impatient. He suddenly remember something and added, "Oh, by the way-- you, uh, you wouldn't mind keeping this tucked away when Kieran is around, would you?"

"Oh, sure. Of course." said Pearson, obviously unsurprised. "That is going to make it take a bit longer, though. He helps out a lot, so I won't be able to work on it during the day."

"I understand." said Arthur, gratefully. "Don't put yourself to any trouble, now."

Pearson nodded. "Good night, Mr. Morgan." He tucked the paper away and went back to his work. Arthur left him with a nod.

He ended up deciding just to go back to his cot and to bed. Thankfully there was hardly anyone else back in camp to roll their eyes about him moping with Kieran gone (although he definitely _wasn't_ moping, anyway). His hands ached, and he might as well get up early the next day and tend to the chores that Kieran would be missing. No reason to put Susan Grimshaw in a foul mood, that was just trouble for all of them.

He kicked off his boots and laid himself down, soon lost in a dream about a white house up on stilts in the bayou, croaking herons with impossibly beautiful trailing feathers swooping over the roof, and Kieran standing in the doorway, just looking up at them.

\- ...-

Arthur woke close to dawn, and after some coffee was soon stumbling about the camp chores, yawning. He scrubbed the tables, hauled the water and the hay bales and the grain sacks, and finally chopped the entire pile of wood that was waiting, before deciding that if there was anything else Kieran usually did in the mornings it would keep till he got back, and sat down to play a hand of poker with Uncle.

One hand turned into many, and he'd won almost five dollars off the old man when Kieran came riding back into camp. He looked perfectly fine to Arthur's worried eye, but Sean wasn't with him.

Arthur didn't have to wonder long why Kieran was alone. After getting Branwen hitched, he made his way straight to Arthur.

"Sean asked you to go meet him in town." he called as he got close. "Got some job going with Bill and Micah, he said."

Arthur frowned. "Not that that sounds like any damn thing I want to be a part of, but alright. I've won enough money off this old bastard, anyway." 

Uncle protested as he got up. "Well, hold on now, we were in the middle of a hand!"

"Which you were gonna lose." Arthur told him flatly. Uncle ignored him and cast his gaze on Kieran.

"Well, what about you? Why don't you finish playing for him?" he gestured Kieran over as Arthur rolled his eyes.

"Huh? M- me? Uh, I don't really know how to play poker..." said Kieran nervously as he sat down.

"Oh, don't worry, I'll teach you." Uncle assured him.

"Don't let him take all your money, Kieran." Arthur warned him, laughing. He shook his head as he left them to it and went to saddle up Beatrice. He'd just have to wait til later to hear how the job with Sean had gone, then. Right now he was busy.

He made his way over to Rhodes, in not too much of a hurry. A job with Sean, Micah, and Bill Williamson? He wasn't exactly looking forward to it, especially since he already knew it had to have something to do with the Grays. Or possibly the Braithwaites. One wasn't particularly better than the other to Arthur.

He met the three of them at the edge of town, noticing that the afternoon was already growing late. He'd spent longer playing cards than he'd thought.

"Been waitin' for ya, Arthur!" Micah greeted him. Arthur just shrugged with a roll of his eyes.

"Well, I'm sorry to have kept you." he said sarcastically.

Micah didn't rise to the bait. "Come on, let's get going."

He quickly set off with Bill and Sean. Arthur followed in their wake, glancing around the town suspicously. He was already getting a bad feeling about this, and the main street of Rhodes seemed far too quiet for this time of day.

"So, what's the plan?" He asked them, hoping to hear something better than what he was expecting.

"We're meeting a couple of the Grays over at the saloon." Micah told him, not turning around. "They spoke to Bill about a job, needin' security."

Arthur had already known it would be something like that. "After that farce of stealing the horses for them, why are we doing this?" he demanded.

"Cause we need to stay in with them." Micah explained, with an air of long-suffering patience. "Besides, they're paying."

"So what kinda security they want?" Arthur asked sourly. He was getting real tired of the way Micah spoke to him.

"That's what we're about to find out." said Micah testily, and Arthur felt a stab of misgiving twist his gut.

"This seem legit to you, Bill?" he hissed, hoping somebody else would see something wrong with this.

But of course Bill just shrugged at him. "Well, sure."

Micah spoke over him. "Dutch said we was keep to dealing with them until we find this gold."

"Can we trust 'em?" Sean asked, but he didn't sound near as doubting as Arthur needed him to be.

"Can we trust anyone?" he answered, darkly. A few townsfolk were out on their porch, giving them a heavy stare as they passed.

"Let's just see what they say." said Micah, obviously annoyed.

"They said there some big misunderstanding about them horses." Bill told Arthur, sounding like he actually believed such a ridiculous lie.

"And what about burning their fields?" Sean asked, pitching his voice low.

It was Micah who answered him. "They don't know we had anything to do with that."

"Oh, that so?" Arthur was feeling worse about this by the minute.

"Yeah, they think it was the Braithwaites." said Bill, a bit too brightly. "Listen, I know these Gray boys a bit now. This is on the level!"

Arthur was not reassured. "We're stuck in the middle of some ancient feud," he growled. "But instead of playing both sides, we're being used by both of them!"

"They were saying that Catherine Braithwaite--" Bill started, but Arthur cut him off as they passed in front of the sheriff's office. The feeling of wrongness in his gut had grown so heavy now that it felt almost like dread, too urgent to ignore.

"This don't feel right." he muttered, reaching for the butt of his pistol.

Sean stopped walking and turned around to face him. "Oh, now it don't feel right? Well, I could have told you th--"

And then his face exploded in a shower of red in front of Arthur's shocked eyes, the sound of the sniper's bullet barely audible over the sudden buzzing in his ears as he watched Sean's body crumple to the street.

It was actually Micah who saved Arthur, though he wouldn't admit it later. In the moments just after, when he was standing there in shock, Micah was already pulling out his pistols, shooting at enemies who had suddenly appeared on both sides of the street, giving Arthur time to snap back to himself and take cover. He immediately pulled out his own guns and began to open fire himself, his hands moving almost automatically.

"Sons of bitches!" He swore, scrambling for better cover as enemies seemed to spring up all around him. He heard Bill shout from across the way.

"Gah! I can't believe you shot me, you bastards!"

"You okay?" Arthur yelled to him, suddenly afraid he was about to have two companions laid out in the street.

"I'm fine!" Bill yelled back angrily, over the whizzing of seemingly countless bullets in the air. 

Someone on the roof behind Arthur nearly grazed his shoulder with a shot, and he desperately rolled out of the line of fire, trying to keep down of sight but having no where to go. He looked around almost frantically for an escape, but couldn't help his eyes being drawn to the still figure in the road.

"Oh, Sean." he groaned. "You idiots!"

"Is he dead?" Bill asked. Arthur wanted to punch him as he reloaded with fumbling fingers.

"Look at him, of course he's dead!" he snarled, picking off another one of the sheriff's men. "How could you not think this was a trap?!"

"You sure you wanna talk about this now, Morgan?" Micah asked from behind him. He was firing relentlessly, seemingly unshaken by either Sean's fate or the crowd surrounding them.

"The cowards are everywhere!" he shouted, as he shot another one off a roof. He pushed past Arthur, running towards the gun store.

"I'll take the front, you take the back!" he called over his shoulder, and Arthur quickly rose to follow him, having no better plan of his own in this situation.

He took out another of Gray's men around the back of the store as he came around the corner, and lost no time kicking the door in. Another man inside looked up as the door crashed open, startled, before catching one of Arthur's bullets between his eyes. Arthur pressed forward towards the front, hearing Micah shouting at him from outside, but was soon pinned down in the hall by two men on either side of the front room, both ducked behind the counters where he couldn't easily aim at them without exposing himself. They were coordinating their timing as they reloaded, he couldn't get a shot in--

Micah suddenly burst through the front door of the shop, cooly shooting both of them with shockingly quick aim.

"You're getting sloppy, Morgan." he smirked. Arthur rushed to duck behind the counter.

"You see the state of Sean's skull?" he asked, furious. "Don't talk to me about sloppy!"

"Well, better in here than out there." said Micah, taking cover on the other side. He and Arthur took aim out the windows, sending more men dead to the ground. 

"You sure about that?" Arthur swore another man came running around the side of a building for every one that he took out. He could heard the sheriff screaming now that he wanted them dead.

Micah gave a sardonic laugh as he listened to the sheriff. "So yeah, I'm thinking the Gray's might be onto us, after all."

"Oh, now it's sinking in?" snarled Arthur, not in the mood to tolerate Micah's tasteless jokes. He finally seemed to be making headway on the numbers in front of him, and the ones that were left appeared to be losing their nerve.

"Look! The cowards are running away!" said Micah almost gleefully, and he and Arthur quickly jumped through the shot-out shop windows to give chase down the street, shooting them in the back as they ran.

Soon the street was deserted except for the two of them, the dust and gunsmoke swirling in Arthur's eyes. He quickly scanned the buildings and roofs around them.

"Looks like all of them." he said, stopping to breath for what felt like the first time in minutes.

"Not all of them." Micah pointed out. He was reloading his pistols with sure movements as he stepped over a corpse on the street.

"Sheriff Gray." Arthur agreed, grimly. He starting looking around for where the sheriff had gone, and suddenly realized--

"What about Bill? Where the hell's he?" he asked aloud, exasperated.

"We'll worry about him later. Come on." said Micah, starting to walk past him up the street. Arthur quickly moved to follow him.

"Sheriff Gray!" Micah yelled as they approached the office. "You need to get a hold on this town, it's going to hell!"

"Who do you think you are?!" came the sheriff's voice from inside, high and shaking. "Buncha two-bit thugs from God knows where! You're so dumb to think we don't know what you been doing!"

Arthur felt his stomach flop at that, with an odd mixture of resignation and dread. Dutch's plan of "hiding in plain sight" had gone even worse in the end than Arthur had been afraid it would.

"Come on out, sheriff!" Micah yelled. "It's over."

"We put down far worse than you, a hundred times over!" Sheriff Gray yelled back. "This is the Gray's town!"

Micah looked at the corpses surrounding them and gave a broad sweeping gesture with his arms that the sheriff couldn't see. "Only Grays I see left around here is you!"

"You want us to come out? We'll come out!" shouted the sheriff suddenly, and the door was kicked open from inside as Arthur heard a loud "Shit!" in a familiar voice.

"Ah, Bill!" Arthur groaned, as the sheriff pushed forward into the sunlight, gripping Bill tightly, a gun to his head.

"Guns on the ground, now!" commanded one of the men who'd followed the sheriff out onto the porch. Arthur started counting them, quickly. He'd just reloaded.

He tried one last time to give the men a chance. "Put the gun down, sheriff!"

"I'll blow his brains out!" The sheriff declared in response, and Arthur drew his gun.

Sometimes, when he was in the thick of a firefight, Arthur found himself able to concentrate so completely that the world around him seemed to move as though through molasses, and all his targets would almost shine in front of him, as though waiting to be shot. 

He began to concentrate like that now.

He heard Bill shout as the world around him snapped back to normal with a sudden lurch, the men on the porch all falling almost in unison as blood spurted from their heads, their chests, their throats. Arthur put his gun away again, his hand shaking slightly.

He turned away from the sheriff's office and quickly walked across the now-silent street, back to where Sean was lying. Arthur stood over him, guilt and sorrow starting to well up now that the adrenaline of the fight was draining away.

"He was a good kid." He sighed, meaning much more than that. Sean didn't deserve what they'd done to him. The wound in his head was garish, and had come so suddenly. Arthur queasily remembered the way Sean had been turned around talking to him when it happened, halfway through a sentence. Arthur had been looking right into his eyes--

He stared at Sean's face, noticing that his eyes were closed, rather than open as Arthur might have expected. His face was pale, but not the waxy color of death, and Arthur swore that the wound on his head was still sluggishly, imperceptibly bleeding.

Arthur quickly crouched down and felt Sean's face, pressing a hand to his chest. Bill and Micah took notice immediately.

"Huh? Is he--?" Bill asked, coming to stand over them.

"Can't be, they shattered his damn skull." said Micah dismissively.

Arthur pulled his hands off of Sean, frustrated. One second he thought he felt something, the next he wasn't sure. 

Then, he suddently remembered the mirror in his pocket, the one he'd bought for Kieran. He pulled it out with jerky movements and held it up to Sean's face, by his nose and mouth. For a long moment there was nothing.

Then--

The mirror fogged.

"He's alive!" shouted Bill above him, and Micah jumped, startled.

"You've got to be kidding me." he said, incredulous. "Look at his damn head, Morgan, it'd be kinder just to put him out of his misery!"

"Shut the hell up." Arthur growled. "Bill, go get that wagon we saw by the side of the general store. We've got to get him back to camp."

"You're wasting your time, cowpoke." said Micah. "That kid's dying any minute, there's nothing you can do."

"Then he'll at least die in camp with his family," Arthur responded furiously. "And not here in the damn street!"

Micah rolled his eyes and made no move to help when Arthur carefully lifted Sean, as Bill approached with the wagon. Bill climbed in the back and reached down to lift Sean's shoulders, the two of them manuevering him to lay flat on his back.

"I'll stay back here with him, you drive the wagon." Arthur muttered to Bill, who nodded grimly and hopped up in the driver's seat.

Micah snorted and whistled for his horse as they started off down the street. He quickly mounted and rode past them.

"See you in camp, then, cowpokes. Don't get caught by the law in that slow and steady wagon of yours."

Bill snorted. "We already shot all the law. And what's he talking about, anway? Of course we gotta at least try to bring Sean back!"

"Well, at least you haven't taken leave of your senses, too." said Arthur. "Keep us steady, now."

They made their way back to the gang as quickly as they dared, Micah barely bothering to look back at them the entire way, not seeming to care if they followed or fell behind. As they finally reached the shelter of the canopy, night falling around them, a commotion became audible from in front of them.

"What the hell is going on?" Bill asked in consternation as they emerged in the clearing to the noise of several people shouting.

"Arthur!" Dutch noticed them and came striding over. "Arthur, have you seen that boy, Jack?"

"What? What the hell do you mean, have I seen Jack? Look, we've already got another problem--"

Next to them, Karen caught sight of their cargo.

" _Oh god, Sean!_ "

The sound of her horrified scream, gutteral with anguish, was something Arthur would remember clearly till the day he died. She stumbled forward and lost her balance, Tilly quickly rushing to her side to help her up.

"What now?!" Dutch looked into the wagon himself, staring for a moment before shutting his eyes.

"Sean got shot in the head." Arthur said to him, his voice dull. On the other side of the wagon, Karen started to sob, loudly and brokenly. 

Arthur's own head was throbbing in time with his heartbeat. "We need the reverend, he was still breathing when I checked earlier. Dunno for how much longer."

Thankfully Swanson was nearby, and sober. He jumped up into the wagon beside Arthur, gasping as he saw Sean and quickly kneeling down beside him.

Arthur got up and climbed down next to Dutch, having nothing left to contribute. Not for Sean, at least.

"What's this about Jack?" he asked.

"Have you seen him, Arthur?!" Abigail was running over to them now, trailed quickly by Hosea.

"Have you seen my son?! _Where is my goddamn son?!_ " Her face was wild, her eyes wide as she stared around camp, like Jack would suddenly appear from his hiding place if she only looked hard enough. "They took him, didn't they?! They took my son!"

"Who took him?" asked Arthur, confused. He quickly stepped away from the wagon to intercept Abigail.

"We think the Braithwaite woman took him." Hosea answered for her. "Kieran saw a couple of fellers, sound like Braithwaite boys--"

"Where is my son? If- if anything--" Abigail was frantic now, her voice shaking. "Where is my son, Dutch van Der Linde?!"

"We will find him. We will bring him back to you. And we will kill any fool who had to the temerity to touch one hair on his head." Dutch declared, his face set in a determined grimace. "Abigail, you have my word."

John had come up from behind Hosea as Dutch spoke, his face set in a hollow expression Arthur hoped he never had to see again. He just stood there, eyes glassy, as Abigail pleaded.

" _Just get me back my son!_ "

"I will get that boy back, so help me God!" Dutch swore as he started for the horses. The other men fell in step behind him.

"Dutch!" Charles was coming in from the other side of camp, closely followed by Javier and Lenny. "We just heard about Jack! You need some extra guns?"

"Yeah, why not." agreed Dutch, unhitching the Countess and swinging himself up onto her bare back. He called back into camp. "Kieran! Micah! Anyone strange turns up, you kill 'em! Rest of you--let's ride!"

And then they were off, moving through the trees like a tiny army. Arthur tried to forget about the contents of the wagon back in camp and focus instead on the little boy they were trying to save, the sound of Karen's sobbing fading swiftly behind him as they galloped onwards towards Braithwaite manor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I couldn't kill Sean. Originally this fic had the "canon compliant" and "major character death" tags for a reason-- I was going to be sticking pretty strictly to the game timeline as far as when everyone dies. Thankfully I realized that would be unsatisfying and frankly pretty lame, so this is more like an "everyone lives" kind of story now. I'll try not to get so behind on updating again, thanks everyone for reading!


	14. Chapter 14

The Van der Linde gang descended upon Braithwaite Manor as the light of the setting sun bloodied the landscape around them. Arthur's head was pounding with every step Beatrice took, and through the haze of pain the world around him seemed more like a nightmare than reality. Hosea had revealed on the way that there was no Confederate gold-- all of Dutch's plans, all of _this_ , had been for nothing, and now they were racing through the woods to rescue a fucking four-year-old for chrissakes, while Sean bled out in the back of a wagon back in camp. Arthur felt like something worse than a fool, wishing that the blood rushing in his ears could drown out the tiny voice in his head whispering _you shouldn't have trusted Dutch_ that he didn't dare listen to.

He stopped Beatrice and swung himself down from the saddle when everyone else did, barely listening to a word any of them were saying as he pulled down his rifle and checked that it was loaded and ready, stuffing extra ammunition in his pocket. Then they were walking up the long path to the plantation house, and Arthur continued to barely listen as Dutch yelled at the Braithwaites. Arthur already knew this was going to come down to shooting, and he carefully counted the men visible in front of them, fretfully fingering his trigger while he waited for Dutch's signal.

Finally, Dutch fell silent for a long moment, then quietly said, "If you ain't gonna be civilized about this--"

Arthur's gun was up and muzzle flashing almost before Dutch had raised his own pistol. His head mercifully emptied itself of thought in the heat of the gunfight, and he found himself in that place of deep concentration again, shooting man after man over the railing of the house as easily as if they were bottles on a fence.

Then suddenly there weren't any more to shoot, and Dutch was rushing up the front steps. "Arthur, John, Hosea-- with me!"

He kicked open the ostentatious front doors and Arthur quickly followed him in. He moved from room to room covered in stained silk wallpaper and filled with moth-eaten upholstery, the scent of decades of tobacco smoke concealed by heavy perfume and the tang of gunpowder from outside. In one room he shot a Braithwaite man who'd attempted to shield himself with a pile of the outdated furniture and then rushed on impatiently through the faded opulence, not seeing any sign of Jack.

He heard Dutch and Hosea yelling for him upstairs then, and abandoned his search of the ground floor to run up and meet them. They were struggling to open a door barricaded from the other side, and Arthur headed over, intending to help. A bullet whizzing through the wood of the door forced him to jump back before he could try, and he then heard Javier yelling from outside that more men were coming.

John ran past him onto the balcony, and Arthur followed, readying his rifle once more. Kneeling side by side, they fired shot after shot, thinning the crowd below. Bizarrely, the one thought that made it into Arthur's aching head was that this was just like the old days when it had only been the four of them, and he and John had fought nearly every battle together. They even seemed to fall into the same sort of silent understanding they used to have, each wordlessly knowing the other's target and aiming elsewhere, John passing Arthur bullets the same moment his rifle ran out, Arthur shoving John out of the way of a well-aimed shot from below. They took down the men in the front yard, then quickly ran to the other side and gave the same fate to those trying to run through the fields.

The last shot was still ringing in Arthur's ears when John snapped his pistol back into its holster and ran to one of the balcony doors-- the outer door to the room Dutch and Hosea were trying to get into, Arthur realized. 

"This must be it!" grunted John, shoving at the doors with his shoulder. "I can't see a goddamn thing!"

Arthur took up the spot next to him, and they glanced at each other before heaving in unison, the door buckling under their combined weight before giving way and flying open.

Inside was a sudden flurried chaos as two men shouted and jumped up from their makeshift furniture barricade, trying to leap to the other side and bring their guns to bear as fast as they could. 

Arthur was much faster.

No longer pinned down by bullets, Dutch and Hosea burst through the hall door into the room. Dutch stalked past the bodies on the floor without a word, and Arthur barely had time to notice the other door he was heading for before he was suddenly kicking it in.

He ducked inside the other room and immediately emerged again, dragging with him Catherine Braithwaite, who screamed when she saw the two men that Arthur had killed.

"Where is the boy?!" Dutch snarled, shoving her against the wall. But despite the muzzle of his pistol pushing roughly against her head, she refused to answer.

"You killed my sons!" she spat, and Dutch turned in fury to fire another bullet into one of the corpses in front of her, causing her to shriek.

She began wailing in earnest as Dutch dragged her downstairs, roughly peeling her grasping hands off the railing as he roared out his command to the others.

" _BURN THIS DUMP TO THE GROUND!_ "

Hosea and John were immediately knocking over the candles around them, rushing downstairs after Dutch to start the blaze there, too. Arthur followed more slowly, his aching head barely registering what was really happening until he saw the flames starting to lick at the walls around him. 

"Are you sure Jack ain't in here?" growled Dutch, down in the front hall.

"We searched everywhere, Dutch." Hosea confirmed, as he and John emerged from rooms already starting to pour with smoke. They quickly made their way out of the front door ahead of the fire.

Dutch followed, dragging the Braithwaite woman. Her almost gutteral sobs reminded Arthur horribly of the sounds that Karen had made earlier, screaming for Sean, and he was suddenly nauseous as he followed Dutch out of the house, telling himself it was just the smoke that made his stomach roil.

He joined the others in the ring around her outside, where she thankfully swallowed her sobs in favor of fury, her voice trembling.

"You damn Yankee!" she spat at Hosea, who came to stand over her. "I never liked you!"

"Why'd you take the boy, Mrs. Braithwaite?" Hosea demanded.

"You stole my liquor!" she snarled.

"Boys are off limits!" Hosea interrupted.

"You stole my horses!" she continued, as though she hadn't heard him. "Ain't no rules in war, Mr.--"

"Matthews." Hosea supplied for her coldly.

"Yes, that's it..." She looked away from him and up at the house, the blaze painting an orange glow on her wild face.

" _Where's the boy_." Hosea insisted, his voice flat. In twenty years Arthur had never heard him speak like that.

Catherine Braithwaite turned to look at him again, her eyes glittering as she spoke with a voice full of venom. "My sons gave him to Angelo Bronte. So my guess is St Denis-- either there, or on the boat to Italy!"

"Let's go!" Hosea growled, immediately turning away from the woman on the ground and heading back towards the horses. Everyone else turned to follow as she began to sob once more, Arthur staring in something close to horror at the way anguish contorted her face, helplessly reminded of--

"Arthur, come on!" Dutch's voice snapped him out of it, and he walked woodenly over to the rest of the gang.

"What are we doing with her?" Arthur heard himself asking, and Dutch shook his head dismissively.

"Leave her." 

Hosea gave one last glance over his shoulder. "Told you she was crazy." he muttered, and then they rode away as her voice rose with the flames.

\- ...-

Karen was mercifully asleep when they arrived back in camp sometime after midnight. The thought of coming back to the sound of her crying had left Arthur with a knot of dread in his stomach the entire ride back, and by the time he had Beatrice hitched up he was ready to vomit, his headache growing unbearable.

He stumbled over to his cot, and to his dim surprise Kieran was quickly there by his side.

"A- Arthur! Did you--?" He crouched nervously by Arthur's cot, as though trying to make himself small enough not to be noticed in Arthur's private space.

Arthur tiredly shook his head. "No--"

As soon as he started to speak he felt his words cut off by bile rising in his throat, and Kieran looked at him in alarm.

"Arthur, are- are you alright?"

Arthur forced himself to swallow it back, and then had to lean over as he started to cough. He took a deep breath. "I'm fine." he mumbled roughly. "Just- just breathed in some smoke, I think. And my damn head--"

Kieran reached out to touch Arthur's temples, concerned. His hands were blessedly cool, and Arthur shut his eyes and just rested that way for a moment. Kieran pulled away far too soon.

"Stay here." he told Arthur quietly, and then stood up and walked off into camp. Arthur sighed heavily and leaned back against the side of his wagon, feeling his horseshoe digging into his back and not caring. He kept his eyes shut, exhausted, as his head swirled sickeningly.

His cot creaked as someone knelt beside him, and then a pair of hands were holding a cup of water to his lips. He drank without opening his eyes. The same hands took the empty cup from him, and then pulled off his hat and tugged at his shoulders, guiding him to lay down. They even pulled his boots off for him, and he cracked one eye open to see Kieran setting them down by his clothes chest before he came to kneel beside the head of the cot. He gently stroked Arthur's hair back from his face, and Arthur felt the water he'd drunk start to settle his stomach a little.

"Dutch and the others have gone to sleep." Kieran told him in a whisper. "Hosea says they'll be meeting again in the morning to plan things out. You should try to get some rest, I'll make sure you wake up on time."

Arthur sighed, then remembered with a lurch of his stomach--

"Sean." he groaned. "Is he--"

"No change since you brought him back. The reverend's sitting with him."

Arthur let his head drop back heavily. Kieran started stroking his fingers through Arthur's hair again, and he tried to breathe deeply, telling himself he wouldn't be of use to anyone tomorrow if he didn't sleep at least a few hours.

"You don't have to stay here." he told Kieran reluctantly. Arthur knew that he wouldn't want the rest of the gang seeing him there.

Kieran glanced around the camp somewhat nervously, but didn't move. 

"Everyone's gone to bed now, anyway." he said to Arthur softly. "It'll be alright for once. Close your eyes, now."

Arthur obeyed, feeling guilty but grateful. Kieran kept stroking his hair, and after a minute Arthur heard him humming, recognizing the lullaby he'd heard Kieran sing once before while they camped together. He tried to listen instead of thinking, and let Kieran's hands soothe his headache enough for him to finally fall asleep.

\- ...-

"Arthur."

Kieran was shaking him awake, far too soon. He opened his eyes with a groan, the memories of the day before hitting him in a rush. Kieran was still kneeling in the same spot, and Arthur wondered if he'd been there all night.

He soon had his boots back on and had joined Hosea and the others at one of the camp's tables, while Kieran slipped back over to the scout fire.

As usual, Dutch was making plans. Arthur forced himself not to think of that small voice in his head from last night--

_you shouldn't have trusted Dutch_

\--did _not_ think of it, and listened to Hosea as he was talking to John.

"--it's gonna work out, John. Listen to Dutch."

Dutch leaned forward across the table. "Now, I don't expect you to understand this," he said quietly. "But I have never been more proud of you than I am right now, brother. You're doing the right thing."

John stared down at his hands, that glassy look back in his eyes. "If I don't get that boy back safe, I'm-- she'll kill us all."

"I know." said Dutch. "But looking at this logically, that boy is _fine_. They took him to scare us. Nobody takes a boy to harm him!"

Arthur looked at John and remembered his own son, remembered, too, the sight of two crosses in the yard of a little house, the way his heart had leapt into his throat and how it had felt to enter that silent doorway--

"What do you think, Arthur?" Dutch interrupted his thoughts. 

"The boy'll be fine." said Arthur heavily, hoping desperately it was true. "But of course Marston's scared rotten! We killed all those people, stirred up all that trouble-- for nothing."

Dutch looked at him with a gaze like steel. "No. Not for nothing. For living."

Arthur was about to open his mouth and say something he'd regret when he was interrupted by Lenny.

"Dutch! We got a problem!"

"Not a problem-- visitors." Arthur turned at the semi-familiar voice, and saw--

Pinkertons. In camp.

"Good day, fine people. Mr. Van der Linde." It was that bastard Milton that Arthur had seen by the river back when they were in Horseshoe Overlook, along with his partner whose name Arthur hadn't bothered to remember. They walked straight into camp almost carelessly, not seeming to care that Lenny followed with his rifle trained on them. 

Milton looked at Hosea. "Mr. Matthews, I presume... And who are you?"

That last was directed at John, who rose from the table with his hand on his pistol, the glassiness in his eyes sharpening into a dangerous glint. 

"Rip van Winkle." He answered, sarcastically and without a smile. 

"Huh." Milton was obviously unimpressed. "Good day, sir. Agent Milton, Pinkerton Detective Agency. Agent Ross." He gestured to his companion. 

Arthur stood up beside John, starting to feel like he was sinking back into last night's nightmare. Milton saw him and nodded. 

"Ah, Mr. Morgan. Nice to see you again."

Dutch interrupted him from where was still sitting at the table, his back to Milton. "And to what do we owe the pleasure, Agent Moron?"

Milton started in on some nonsense then, about civilization and some other crap Arthur didn't care about. He was watching the gang instead, as they slowly encircled the two agents. Milton didn't seem to take notice, perhaps distracted as Dutch stood and answered him angrily, giving a pretty speech that Arthur guessed was mostly quoted from Miller.

Milton finally grew tired of the talking. "I came to make a deal." He announced. "It's time. You come with me, and I give the rest of ya three days to run off, disappear and go live like human beings someplace else."

"You came for me?" Dutch had a humorless smirk on his face as he stared at Milton. "Risked life and limb in this den of lowlifes and murderers, so that they might live and love? Ain't that fine."

Milton just nodded, still seemingly unaware of his current precarious position. "I don't want to kill all these folk, Dutch. Just you."

Dutch laughed sardonically. "In that case, it'd be my honor to join you."

He stepped towards Milton slowly, his hands held unthreateningly in the air. "Excuse me, friends. I have an appointment to keep with--"

Every hand in camp was suddenly holding a gun, the clicking of hammers being cocked filling the air like a sudden shower of hail. Milton finally seemed to realize the danger he was in, his face twitching while he held his ground.

"I think your new friends should leave now, Dutch." said Susan Grimshaw, cradling her shotgun almost lovingly.

"You're making a big mistake." Milton tried to bluster. "All of you!"

They shifted closer to him, Arthur noticing that even Kieran was standing shoulder to shoulder with the others, his bone-handled pistol ready in his hand.

Dutch chuckled with real amusement this time. "Yeah, dreadful. We have got something-- something to live and die for. How awful for us, Mr. Milton."

He stepped closer to the Pinkerton, his voice dropping to a growl. "Stop. Following. Us. We'll be gone soon."

"I'm afraid I can't." Milton answered immediately, casting his gaze around the circle. "And when I return, I'll be with fifty men. All of you will die. Run away from this place, you fools! Run!"

Lenny had had enough. "Come on." he said roughly, grabbing Milton by the arm to usher him out.

Milton jerked away from him. "Get your damn hands off of me, _boy_." he hissed, and Lenny gave him a glare of deep hatred.

The two agents finally left then, stalking out of the Van der Linde camp without a backwards glance.

Arthur walked over to stand by Dutch. "What now?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

"We get out of here. Quick." said Dutch, as the circle around them slowly dispersed. "Any ideas?"

Arthur nodded. "I know a big old house, hidden in the swamps outside St. Denis. They'll find us eventually, but it should give us a few days."

Dutch nodded. "A few days is all we need." He said, with a hope Arthur didn't feel.

"It's a spot out by Shady Belle." Arthur continued. "Lenny and I had a... _disagreement_ with the previous occupiers. Place is well hidden."

Dutch motioned to John. "You and Arthur, ride out and make sure no one else has moved in. Lenny, go follow those fools out and make sure they actually leave."

He caught John's attention one last time before he left with Arthur. "John, we'll get Jack back, and we'll get gone. _The rest of you, get packing!_ "

\- ...-

John bitched the whole way there-- about the Braithwaites, about the gold they never found, but mostly about Dutch and how this was his fault. Arthur tried to reassure him without thinking of his own doubts, still simmering just below the surface of his mind.

He was grateful when they finally came in sight of the dilapidated plantation house. "That's it up ahead."

"Four walls and a roof! We're moving up in the world."

"You ain't seen inside it yet." Arthur warned him.

John urged Old Boy across the yard at a quicker pace. "Come on. Sooner we get this done, the better. You sure this place is empty?"

"I ain't sure of nothing." said Arthur warily, as they both dismounted and began to approach.

The place was _not_ empty. He and John worked quickly to clear the house and yard, the old Raiders that held it not putting up much of a fight against the two of them. The place was theirs soon enough, and Arthur began to haul the corpses out of the house and dump them into the swamp while John went back to camp to get the others.

Arthur had gotten all the bodies out, and even had time to mop up some of the more obvious splatters of blood, by the time the wagon caravan arrived. The yard was soon full of a bustle of people busily unpacking and beginning to set up tents.

He saw Dutch motioning to him. "Arthur. Come take a ride with me."

Arthur started to follow, but was interrupted by Kieran running up behind them. "Dutch!" he said, sounding slightly frantic. "I- I need to talk to you!"

Dutch started to wave him away as he mounted the Count. "Not now, Kieran--"

"It's about Sean!" Kieran hissed, standing at Dutch's stirrup. "He- he's dying, Dutch. The reverend can't help him, he needs a real doctor or we're gonna lose him. There's one in St. Denis, I remember, w- we need to take him there. Today."

Dutch shut his eyes, and there was pain in his voice when he spoke. "We cannot risk driving a wagon into the heart of St. Denis on the same damn day that Pinkertons rode into our camp."

"I'll take him with me, on Branwen!" said Kieran desperately. "Sh- she's got a real steady gait, and- and we'll tie him to the saddle. I can make it there like that, please, Dutch!"

He opened his eyes and looked at Kieran, as though evaluating him.

"I'm not wanted, Dutch." Kieran told him, and he gave a slight nod.

"Arthur," he said slowly, turning on his horse. "You think some fancy St. Denis doctor will have heard anything about a shootout at the sheriff's in Rhodes?"

Arthur shook his head. "No." he said, truthfully. "That city is huge, people there concern themselves with themselves, not the little hick towns around 'em."

That apparently made Dutch's mind up for him. "Go and get Sean ready. You'll ride with Arthur and I to the city, and we'll go in separately once we arrive. Hurry!"

Kieran started to sprint off, but Arthur caught him by the shoulder. Digging in his pocket, he pulled out a wad of cash and shoved it at Kieran. "Here-- for the doctor. And go wait for me at the same saloon as last time once you drop him off, I'll meet you there after Dutch and I are done. Get a room if we're running late, I dunno how long this will take."

Kieran nodded and took the money, silently tucking it in his pocket as he pulled away from Arthur.

He and Dutch waited while Swanson and Lenny helped Kieran get Sean up in the saddle and tied down so he wouldn't fall. Kieran climbed up behind, his arms around him holding the reins while Sean's bandaged head lay limply against his shoulder.

The ride to St. Denis was a grim one. Kieran had to keep his pace painfully slow, trying not to jostle Sean as he went. Dutch and Arthur stayed ahead of him, making sure the road was clear of any folk who might look suspiciously at them.

After what felt like hours, they finally arrived at the city. Arthur stared at it, at the looming buildings and clouds of smoke choking the air. He was never really fond of the place, and the thought of trying to find Jack in that rat's maze of alleyways made him feel almost hopeless before they started. Behind him, Dutch was giving quiet instructions to Kieran, telling him which way to enter the city from and how to get to the doctor's on the shortest route.

Then Kieran was gone, slowly trotting off into the distance with his precarious cargo. Dutch and Arthur made their own way in via another street, and quickly separated to search the city.

\- ...-

Arthur was exhausted by the time night had fallen. He coughed roughly as he made his way up the street, and had to reflect to himself that he really was starting to get older; once in his life he could have worked for days without sleep, but lately he seemed endlessly drained by the constant stress they were under, weariness settling into his bones by every twilight.

He stopped outside of the saloon, and looked up at the balcony to see Kieran's felt hat hanging outside one of the rooms. At least he wouldn't have to talk to anyone else that night, then. He hitched up Beatrice and went inside to make his way up the stairs without pausing to even acknowledge the bartender's greeting.

He pushed open the door of the room, and saw Kieran jump nearly out of his skin where he was standing by the window.

"A- Arthur!" he gasped. "Did you--?"

Arthur had to shake his head he shut the door behind him. He joined Kieran at the window. "No, but we're getting close. That Bronte fella has half this damn town in his pocket, seems like. We've found where he is, though. Dutch has gone back to Shady Belle to get John, we're going to go meet this bastard tomorrow and finish this."

Kieran nodded tensely, his face a mask of guilt. "Arthur, you- you have to fix this! It's my damn fault that Jack is gone!"

"Now, how could it be your f--"

"Because I saw those Braithwaite men in camp!" Kieran confessed. "But- but I- I knew you all had had dealings with them, I thought they- they must be there meeting Dutch o-or something. If I'd known they were after Jack, I'd have..."

He trailed off, staring down at the floor. Arthur felt a momentary flash of anger that surprised him. _Why didn't you say anything?!_

But he pushed the thought quickly down. "It ain't your fault." he said roughly, reminding himself it was true. "It's those damn Braithwaites, they're the ones who kidnapped a little boy! You didn't have no reason to think they were gonna do that, no one thought they were gonna do that."

Kieran didn't look any less guilty.

"What about Sean?" Arthur asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.

Kieran let out a heavy sigh. "Well, he had what looked like a seizure this morning." he told Arthur, who winced. "That's when the reverend said we needed to get him to a real doctor. There hasn't been any other change in him that I've noticed, he's still unconcious."

"What did the doctor have to say when you brought him in?" Arthur prepared himself to hear the worst.

"Well, he said something about bleeding and pressure on his brain that I didn't really understand, but he did say he could take care of that. Apparently, Sean's still got a good chance of recovery-- _if_ he wakes up by tomorrow. Every day after that, the doctor says there'll be more of him gone."

"Well, he'd better wake up tomorrow, then." said Arthur grimly. "If we lose him, we'll lose Karen, too."

They both just looked at each other. Arthur had expected tears from Kieran, but he stood with a stony face, his eyes dry. Arthur reached out and pulled him into an embrace.

"Let's just go to sleep." he whispered. "We ain't no help to Sean or Jack or anyone else right now. Best thing is to get some rest."

Kieran nodded against his shoulder, and they were soon in bed, wrapped around each other under the cool sheets. They both lay awake for a long time, Arthur listening to Kieran breathe and watching the moonlight stream in through the windows.

Finally he could stay awake no longer, and let his eyes slip shut as exhaustion took him, thoughts of tomorrow's confrontation against Bronte chasing him down into his dreams.


	15. Chapter 15

Arthur hated graveyards. He hadn't known he did until today, but after spending close to an hour in one with John he was very sure of his feelings. On every side they were surrounded with the imagery and symbolism of death, and the crowded stone monuments magnified every echo so that trying to locate any noise became a task of navigating a confusing maze of sound.

That damned smug Italian had sent them here hunting graverobbers, of all things, and Arthur had never felt more penned in in his life than he did while running half bent-over through the uneven stone hallways the gravestones and memorials formed, hardly daring to fire off a shot for fear of the ricochet. He felt like he could barely breathe until they finally managed to slip past the St. Denis lawmen that had come to investigate the noise, and were out on the street again. Normally Arthur felt the streets in the city were far too narrow for comfort, but after the graveyard they felt like an open field.

He and John rode quickly back to Bronte's residence, tense at what they would find waiting for them. But when they walked up to the gate, they were immediately allowed into the courtyard, where they were greeted with a welcome sound.

"Pa!"

Jack ran into John's outstretched arms, looking cheerful and unhurt.

"Took your time." said Dutch sourly, rubbing at the small of his back as he got up from the stone steps where he'd been sitting.

"Where's your host?" Arthur asked. Beside him, John was clutching Jack tightly, stroking his hair with one hand.

"Am I glad to see you." he mumbled softly. Watching them, Arthur felt something both warm and painful in his heart.

"Like I said, you took your time." Dutch came up behind him, shooing both of them out the gate. "Let's get going."

Arthur allowed himself to be ushered along out of the yard, back into the street where their horses were waiting.

"We have to get Kieran before we go back." He reminded Dutch. "He should have news on Sean by now."

He lowered his voice, glancing at Jack. "Apparently today was the big day as far as him waking up. If it takes any longer, things are gonna start looking a lot worse for him."

Dutch nodded, his face grim. "Let us pray for good news, brother."

John was already mounted with Jack in front of him, waiting. 

"Over to the saloon." Dutch instructed him, and they were on their way across the city, their horses' hooves clattering over the moonlight-soaked stones of the street. 

"Where are we going?" asked Jack curiously.

"We are going to get Kieran." Dutch told him. "And then we are gonna get you home."

"Oh." He was silent for a moment. "Um... who is...?"

"He's the one who takes care of the horses." John told him, and Jack wrinkled his little nose up.

"Him? But I thought he was an O'Driscoll!"

John looked at Arthur, embarassed.

"We thought he was an O'Driscoll." said Dutch, smoothly filling John's silence. "But, it turns out that we made a mistake. Kieran is one of us now, Jack, the same as your Pa or Uncle Arthur."

"Oh..." Jack looked very thoughtful about something, and Arthur wondered what.

That same moment, however, they arrived at the saloon. Arthur quickly swung himself down. "I'll go up and get him." he said quietly, not wanting to attract any more attention after their activities in the graveyard earlier. He tossed Beatrice's reins over to Dutch, who took them with a nod.

Arthur forced himself to walk slowly across the dining room, but took the stairs two at a time before making Kieran jump out of his skin again when he threw the door open with a clatter.

"Did you--" Kieran started to ask, eyes wide, but Arthur just motioned for him to follow, feeling a grin spreading on his face despite his lingering worry. He turned and dashed down the steps again as casually as he could manage, Kieran close on his heels.

Outside, Kieran sagged weakly against Arthur when he saw Jack sitting in front of John.

"Oh, J-Jack, you- you're alright--" he stammered, his relief palpable.

Jack looked at Kieran for several long moments, still looking thoughtful. Then he held out his arms. Obviously a little startled, Kieran went and stood by Old Boy so Jack could give him a hug.

"I'm sorry for throwing rocks at you." said Jack solemnly. "I thought you were an O'Driscoll."

Kieran looked back at Arthur, who just shrugged, still grinning. 

"Um, thank you, Jack." Kieran mumbled awkwardly, while John rolled his eyes.

"Are we ready to get back?" he demanded, but Dutch spoke over him.

"No, we are not. What about Sean?"

Kieran's face brightened, and Arthur felt like he was the one going weak with relief, now.

"He's awake!" Kieran told them. "He's awake, and talking, a-and he recognized me first thing--"

"I hadn't known that not recognizing people was a possibility we were facing." said Dutch grimly, sharing a look with Arthur.

"Oh-- uh, the doctor said it m-might be a problem if he stayed unconscious too long-- or- or it could m-maybe be a problem anyway, for at least a little while after he wakes up? B-but he recognized me right away, s-so..."

He shrank away from Dutch, who had fixed him with the full force of his intense gaze. "What else did the doctor say?"

"W-well-- he- he needs to stay there f-for at least a few weeks, and the doctor won't really know how- how b-bad he is until after that. There c-could be problems with his coordination, his- his memory...b-but we won't really know until he's had a chance to recover."

"And how does he look _now_?" Dutch demanded. "You are the only one who's seen him!"

"Honestly, he looked fine!" Kieran shrugged nervously, wringing his hands as he looked anywhere but at Dutch. "I- I mean, he was just laying down in bed, b-but he talked to me, he ate some food, he- he flirted with the nurse--"

John snorted. "He can't be that bad off, then."

Dutch seemed to relax by a hair. "Well, it seems that he is recovering better than any of us had hoped, honestly."

"Honestly?" Arthur muttered under his breath. "I thought he was dead."

John gave him a frown as Jack looked at all their faces, worried.

"Is something wrong with Uncle Sean?" he asked, and John was quick to reassure him.

"He- he got hurt on the head, a little, and he has to stay at the doctor's for a few days. But he's gonna be alright."

"Oh." Jack looked unconvinced. "Is he really gonna be alright? Are you sure?"

"Of course, Jack." Dutch told him, in a voice of absolute certainty. "Sean is going to be just fine. Now, let's get you home to your mother. She's been worried sick about you."

Arthur jumped in Beatrice's saddle while Kieran went around the corner to fetch Branwen from where she was hitched. Once he was back with the rest of them, they set off for Shady Belle.

Arthur felt lighter than he had in days. Jack was back! And Sean was doing well by all accounts, although Arthur tried not to think about what the doctor might have to say in two weeks.

Instead, he listened to Jack tell his father all about his apparently wonderful stay at Bronte's residence, talking about "spaghetti" and slippers and other Italian things, and calling him "Papa Bronte", much to John's consternation. 

"Don't call him that, please." he told his son, obviously a little upset.

Arthur tried to distract Jack. "Wait til you see our new camp!"

But Jack just groaned. "Not another one..."

"Well, this one's got a house!" Arthur tried to stay cheerful. "Not as nice as Mr. Bronte's, mind you."

"That's okay." said Jack, obviously trying to be agreeable.

"We'll get you settled and cleaned up in no time." John told him, and Jack laughed.

"Oh, I had a bath last night!"

"Of course you did." John muttered.

Arthur was distracted himself by Dutch, then.

"You know, Arthur, Mr. Bronte has invited us to a garden party at the mayor's house." He chuckled wryly. "And us, just simple country boys."

He gave Arthur a very enterprising sort of look, and then spurred the Count ahead as they arrived at Shady Belle, the old falling down house already looking like home with light blazing from the ruined windows. 

"Abigail!" Dutch called. "Abigail, we have brought you your son back--"

"I'm fine, Mama!" Jack yelled, as the camp became a buzz of activity.

Abigail came hurrying up the front yard, already reaching her arms out for Jack, tears in her eyes.

Kieran dismounted and looked over at Arthur. "I promised Karen--" he said quietly, and Arthur nodded.

Kieran slipped away towards the wagons as Abigail gathered Jack up, weeping in relief. "Dutch-- A-Arthur-- thank you."

John stood by awkwardly as she carried Jack away, crying and calling to the other members of the gang. He rubbed surreptitiously at his eyes as Arthur pretended not to notice. 

Hosea came up to greet them. "So?"

"So, we met Mr. Bronte." Dutch told him. He gave Hosea a pat on the shoulder and started to walk off with him, already talking business, before calling over his shoulder.

"John? You go be with your family. Arthur-- thank you. We have work ahead of us boys, interesting work. But tonight, let's have a drink! _We got Jack back!_ " 

And then he and Hosea walked off into camp towards the cheering group assembled there.

John stayed behind for a moment, standing next to Arthur in the dark driveway.

"Thank you, Arthur. I--" John stopped and cleared his throat as he choked slightly. "I don't know how to say it. But-- thank you."

Arthur nodded as he lit a cigarette, looking away from John.

"I understand." he said quietly. "Now, do as Dutch says. Go be with your family."

John walked ahead of Arthur towards the campfire and the rest of the gang. Hosea saw him coming and ran to pull him forward.

"Make room for John, now--" and he pulled him over to sit by Abigail, who had Jack in her lap. She just looked at John, her eyes shining and her expression unreadable.

Then Javier had grabbed his guitar and started playing, and they were all clapping along as he sang to them, joyfully.

Arthur smiled and listened for a minute, before walking from the back of the crowd over to the tents, the sounds of merriment chasing him.

He found Kieran over by the girls' wagon, Karen draped over him as she sobbed into his shoulder. He patted her awkwardly on the back, and gave Arthur a pleading look once he noticed him.

"Hey, Karen." said Arthur, and she willingly let go of Kieran and grabbed onto him instead.

"Oh, Arthur!" she cried. "D-did you hear that Sean's gonna b-be okay?"

He patted her shoulder, a bit awkward himself. "Yeah, I heard."

She blubbered slightly. "I- I can't even t-tell you how I felt when I saw him in that wagon..."

Arthur thought of the moment that Sean had fell, just a sudden shot in the middle of a sentence and then his body crumpling. He patted Karen a little more firmly.

"I know, Miss Karen." he told her, and just held her there for a little while as she cried against him.

The noise of the party just a few feet away grew louder as Karen finally pulled away from him, sniffling and reaching for her handkerchief.

"You ready to go have a drink, Miss Karen?" Arthur asked her, and she nodded resolutely, scrubbing the tears from her face. 

"Oh, you better believe it. I am gonna _celebrate_ tonight."

Arthur gave a low whistle. "Well, watch out!" He noticed Kieran still hanging back by the wagon as they started to walk towards the fire, and motioned over to him.

"C'mon, join the party with us."

But of course Kieran just shook his head anxiously. "I- I dunno--"

Karen marched right back and grabbed him, pulling him forward. "Don't be ridiculous, Kieran, come celebrate with the rest of us. Sean's okay! And we got Jack back!"

Kieran took the bottle of whiskey she grabbed from a table and shoved into his hands, and looked at Arthur with uncertainty. Arthur just laughed at him.

"What, don't you know what to do with it, boy?"

Kieran flushed and quickly took a long pull, coughing and spluttering while Karen and Arthur roared with laughter. Arthur reached over and plucked the bottle out of his hands.

"Here, lemme show you." he said with a wink, and Karen whooped as he upended the bottle and drank as deeply as he could, gulp after gulp burning his throat. He set the bottle down nearly empty and stood swaying for a moment, before belching in triumph as Karen cheered and Kieran just stared at him in astonishment.

Arthur grinned and slung an arm around his shoulders, already feeling warm from the whiskey and knowing he was about to get a whole lot drunker. "You have got some catching up to do." he said, jabbing a finger at Kieran's chest.

Kieran sputtered as Karen ran to another one of the tents nearby and returned with three beers, pressing one into each of their hands.

"Here, you damn baby." she giggled at Kieran. "Since you choke on whiskey, apparently!"

Kieran turned bright red. "I- I do not--"

But Karen was still laughing at him, and clearly the only thing to do in that situation was to chug the entire beer-- which Kieran did. Arthur couldn't stop laughing at that himself, and a few beers later the three of them were with the others around the fire, making Javier roll his eyes as they tried to sing along in mangled Spanish.

The whiskey he'd downed hit Arthur like a train after a few minutes, and soon he was singing the loudest, pulling Kieran over to the table where Uncle was and making him sit as they taught him all the dirtiest songs they knew, falling over each other with laughter as he grew more embarrassed with each one.

Everyone in the gang grew sloppier as the night went on, and eventually Arthur found himself hanging off of Kieran as the world spun around him, practically knocking them both over onto the porch.

In the fog of his drunk mind, he kept thinking of John and Abigail, and about how he'd wanted a family and a wife once when he was young--

"Kieran." he slurred, his voice much louder than he thought it was. "Kieran, I- I wanna marry you!"

"Arthur!" Kieran protested, staggering under Arthur's almost dead weight as he tried to hold them both up, too drunk himself to have any balance. Finally he managed to steer them both over to the front of the house, where he leaned Arthur up against the wall.

"I don'- I don't really wanna be a wife--" Kieran mumbled close to his shoulder, swaying against him as he stood. 

"Okay, we can be husban's..." This seemed like a brilliant idea to Arthur, but Kieran just shook his head, turning red up to his ears.

"O-okay, bu-but can we talk abou' it upstairs, please?" he pleaded. "E-everyone can hear you down here--"

Arthur became dimly aware that the roar of laughter he heard behind him was directed at them.

"I don' care! I love you!"

Kieran started forcibly dragging him inside the house, pushing him across the front room and towards the staircase.

"C'mon Arthur, please..."

Arthur tried to oblige him, holding onto the railing as tightly as he could, but the treacherous stairs seemed to wobble and spin under his feet, and Kieran ended up propelling him upwards with a rough push from behind.

Then they had to navigate the landing, Arthur tripping over his own feet and over Kieran's, too, before they were finally into the small room that Grimshaw had prepared for Arthur, and Kieran was able to pour him with some difficulty into his bed.

Arthur immediately reached out and grabbed Kieran by the wrist.

"I mean it, Kieran!" he mumbled as sincerely as he could. "I- I love you, I wan' you to be my fam'ly..."

Kieran plunked himself down on the edge of the bed, nearly missing it and ending up on the floor. "I am your family, Arthur. Even if we ain't married."

Arthur shook his head. "No, I wan' more than that-- I- I wan' that white house--"

Kieran looked at him blearily. "Wha- what white house?"

"The one I dream abou' at night, alla damn time now..." Arthur confessed to him. "Used to be Mary there waitin' for me, but- but now it's you. I wanna buy you a house, an' we can live there together, an- an' we'll have horses in the yard..."

He wasn't sure if he was really conveying his meaning, but Kieran seemed to understand. He reached out and touched Arthur's face.

"I want that a lot, Arthur." he said quietly.

Arthur reached up to cover Kieran's hand with his own as the room spun around him. Then Kieran was pulling away--

"No! Don' leave, I- I wan' you to stay--" Arthur pleaded with him, pulling at his arm.

"I gotta get downstairs, Arthur, if I wait til mornin' everyone'll see me..." Kieran protested.

"Stay..." Arthur mumbled, and Kieran hesitated for a moment.

"Next time, Arthur." he promised. "I love you."

"I love you, too." Arthur whispered back, as Kieran stood up to leave.

And then he slipped out of Arthur's grasp, and was gone.

\- ...-

Arthur woke groaning, his head pounding and his stomach sour. He stumbled downstairs with difficulty, glad there was no one in the front room of Shady Belle as he made his way out the front door. Thankfully the water barrel behind the chuck wagon was close by, and he practically stuck his head in it as he drank deeply and then washed his face.

It wasn't til the cold water hit him that he remembered--

_Kieran, I- I wanna marry you!_

Arthur straightened up, his face burning. Had he really...? In front of _everyone_...?

He buried his head in his hands with a groan. Kieran probably wanted to murder him...

...but he also remembered telling Kieran his dream about the white house, and instead of laughing at his foolish romanticism, Kieran had looked at him and said that he wanted that, too.

Now his stomach was flip-flopping from more than just a hangover. He tried to push it out of his mind as he went to the cook fire to pour himself some coffee.

"Well, looks like our little lovebird is awake."

Arthur kept his eyes on the coffee he was pouring and didn't turn around. Micah kept talking anyway.

"I suppose we'll be hearing wedding bells soon... oh, but you can't actually get married to your little catamite, can you?"

Arthur did straighten and turn at that, growling, but when he saw Micah's smug face he realized he'd already lost by reacting.

"Don't mean to hurt your feelings, cowpoke."

Arthur turned away from him without responding, hearing Micah chuckle behind him as he walked away. He tried to ignore him as he drank his coffee too quickly, feeling it scalding his tongue and not caring.

He went back upstairs to his room and shaving kit-- he hadn't shaved in days, and his chin was itching with new growth.

He glanced out the ruined window in his room and peered over the grounds-- but he couldn't see the scout fire from here, or Kieran. He sighed. Mirrors wouldn't do them any good here, then. They'd have to come up with something else.

He stepped away from the window and only then noticed the letter that had been left for him on the table. He picked it up and began to read, curious.

_My Dear Arthur,_

_I hope this letter finds you well. I wanted to thank you for your help with Jamie. He and Daddy are still arguing--_

Arthur read the rest of it quickly, feeling an odd twisting in his gut. So Mary needed his help again. For a moment he was frozen in place, not knowing what to do--

\--but, he couldn't just ignore her, could he?

He shaved hastily, almost nicking himself more than once, and then made his way back down the stairs again. He strode quickly over to Beatrice and mounted, not wanting to hear from anyone else about the little show he'd put on last night.

The ride to St. Denis was much faster when he wasn't waiting on Kieran and Sean, and soon he was riding over the cobblestones towards the hotel.

He hitched up Beatrice and wondered whether he should go upstairs to meet her, or--

"Arthur!" came a voice from above him. "Arthur!"

He looked up to see Mary up on the balcony, looking down at him and waving. 

"Oh, Arthur, you came!"

He shrugged, slightly embarrassed as a few passers-by looked at them. "Course I came."

"Stay right there, I'll come down!"

Arthur waited, not sure how he'd feel when he saw her. After a moment, she came out the door and just stood there, looking at him.

"Arthur." she said warmly. "You came."

"Of course." he said quietly. "Whenever you call for me, I come."

He studied her face and dark hair, remembering how John Marston had told Kieran that he looked like her and feeling a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Mary looked at him a little strangely. "Oh, Arthur..." she sighed.

"What's wrong?" he asked her.

"It's Daddy..."

"Your father?" he said, surprised. "You want me to help _him_?"

"Oh, please, Arthur, I'm begging you!"

Arthur shook his head. "You don't have to beg me, Mary. What's the loveable old patriarch been up to now?"

"Oh, Arthur, you know sarcasm is beneath you." Mary told him. "He's been gambling, and drinking, and...other things..."

"Oh, the filthy rotter." Arthur had to chuckle. "Where can we find him?"

"He said he was going to the Theodore Eckhart stables. Something about a horse. It's down by the water in the warehouse district, near the trainyard."

"Well, come on then." he said. "I've got Beatrice hitched up around the corner."

"Beatrice?" she said, as she followed him. "Is that your horse? Doesn't sound like a name you'd pick out."

"Ah, well, someone-- someone else came up with it, actually. I like it alright, though."

He climbed up in the saddle, Mary behind him, and set off towards the stables.

Tracking Mr. Gillis down felt like an exercise in absurdity, he and Mary ducking through alleys and chasing after him while staying just out of sight. After catching up with him (and after Arthur had chased that idiot pawnbroker down in the swamp and gotten Mary's broach back), he'd thought to just take her down to the trolley.

But instead she asked him to go see a show, and after seeing the melodious Robin Koninsky, then a fascinating fire-dancer, and finally a group of giggling can-can girls (Arthur's favorite act) they were on the street again, laughing to each other. Arthur felt more relaxed around her than he had in years.

She smiled at him as they walked towards the trolley station. "So... what's her name?"

"Huh?"

Her eyes were sad as she looked at him. "The woman you're in love with, Arthur. I can see you aren't looking at me the same way anymore."

"Aw, Mary..." Arthur felt strangely guilty, and Mary shook her head firmly.

"It's alright, Arthur. It- it's more than alright, it's wonderful! All I ever wanted was for you to be happy, Arthur, you know that. Or, at least I hope you do."

Arthur sighed. Surely he couldn't tell her Kieran's actual name...

"Uh, it's Karen." Then, seeing the face she made-- "No, no, not that Karen! A- a different one, someone who just joined up with us a few months ago."

"I didn't know you were still recruiting new members..." said Mary, curiously. 

"Well, we ain't, really, but she didn't have anywhere else to go. Plus she saved my life-- shot a man point-blank, when he was about to gun me down himself."

"Well!" Mary's eyes were wide. "Sounds like she may be a better fit for you, then, Arthur. I-I'm not sure I could have done that..."

"Truth be told, I'm not quite sure how she did it herself-- she's a terrible shot." Arthur had to laugh. "Set up some bottles to test her aim while she was out hunting up north with me and Charles, she couldn't hardly hit a one!"

Mary kept smiling at him. "Tell me more about her, Arthur."

"Well, she's kinda shy, I guess. But she- she's-- _resilient_." There was the word that had eluded him, talking with John up in Colter. "I think she's stronger than me, sometimes. She's been through a lot, and still looking forward, y'know? We go fishing together, and riding... she loves horses, more'n me, I think sometimes."

"She's the one who named Beatrice." said Mary, and Arthur nodded.

"Yeah, that was her." _Back when we weren't together, back when I was scared to look at him, I wanted him so bad..._

He wouldn't tell Mary that part.

They were nearly at the trolley station now.

"I'm happy for you, Arthur." Mary told him as they stopped walking. "Really, truly, I am. I wish for all the peace in the world for you-- for the both of you."

"I'm not sure how much peace there is in my world, Mary." he told her, as the trolley pulled up.

"Well, try, Arthur. For her, if not for yourself." She started climbing up the steps before looking back one last time.

"Goodbye, Arthur. I do hope you'll be happy."

"Goodbye, Mary."

And then the trolley was pulling away, leaving Arthur alone on the street. He felt aimless for a moment, not sure where to go. Eventually he decided on just having a drink and maybe a game of poker at the saloon-- been a damn long time since he was able to relax by himself.

\- ...-

One drink turned into many, and he was at the poker table til past midnight before he finally busted out. He paid the bartender for a room and dragged himself upstairs to sleep it off.

In the morning he headed off to Shady Belle at a slow pace, his head pounding after two nights of drinking in a row.

When he arrived at the house, Mary-Beth's voice cut straight through his hangover.

"Arthur!" she ran to him as he hitched up Beatrice, looking frantic. "Arthur, has Kieran been with you?!"

"What do you mean? No, he ain't been with me--"

"Arthur, nobody's seen him since the party for Jack!"

Arthur felt the bottom drop out of his stomach. "W-what do you mean--" he repeated, staring at her. She stared back with wide, worried eyes.

"He's gone!"


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for another long hiatus when I ended on a cliffhanger, my humble apologies!! Please enjoy!!

The seats by the scout fire, Pearson's wagon, the girls' wagon, the various scattered tables, the horse's hitch-- Arthur searched desperately for some clue to Kieran's disappearance, but could barely find a trace of even his existence in their camp. Other than, of course, his sweet, red-faced Branwen, who whickered eagerly at Arthur as he approached, arching her neck and begging for a brush. She obviously hadn't had any grooming or care since the night of the party, and he took the time to brush her down as his heart sank even lower. Surely Kieran wouldn't have gone far without his beloved horse, but where would he have gone even nearby? Shady Belle was surrounded on almost three sides by a damn swamp--

Mary Beth, coming up beside him after her own search of the camp, seemed to catch the thought from his head.

"Oh, Arthur." she gasped. "Can Kieran swim?"

"No." he told her, feeling the first hint of actual panic rising nauseatingly in his gut.

They spent nearly half an hour at the grim task of searching the water, Arthur jabbing a long pole into the soft mud, grimacing as he anticipated hitting something more solid. Mary Beth watched with her white-knuckled hands covering her mouth, squeaking nervously every time Arthur drew the pole back, but they found nothing there, either.

Arthur wiped his forehead, sweat starting to drip into his eyes as the sun grew higher.

"Damn gators coulda got him by now, anyway, if he did fall in." he grunted, unable to keep the thought caged any longer. Mary Beth gasped.

"Oh, Arthur..." she put a hand on his arm. "Surely that didn't happen. If- if he ain't here, then maybe--"

"Maybe what, Mary Beth? He just got carried off into the damn sky?! We both know he'd never leave camp on his own-- and he'd never leave Branwen, neither."

She sniffled and looked at the ground, and Arthur was trying to find it in himself to apologize when they were suddenly interrupted by a thunder of hooves, as Bill barrelled into camp on Brown Jack's enormous back.

"Hey, Arthur!" he called as he dismounted. "Where's Kieran?"

"We don't know!" cried Mary Beth, but Bill didn't seem to notice her distress as he strode over to them.

"Well, you better find him and tell him to get back to camp. I just spotted some O'Driscolls hanging around near Rhodes. Looks like they might be scouting the area, wouldn't want him to get picked up. Hey, what's the matter with you, Arthur?"

Bill looked from Arthur's gray face to Mary Beth's tearful one, and slowly seemed to realize the import of his own words.

"Say, Arthur, you don't think they...?"

"You and I are gonna find out." Arthur growled. He grabbed Bill by the shoulder and pulled him along as he stalked over to the horses. Behind him, he could hear Mary Beth running to the house, calling for Dutch.

Arthur and Bill quickly mounted and started out of camp towards Rhodes, Arthur spurring Beatrice almost to a gallop down the long driveway.

"Hey, w-wait up, Arthur!" 

Brown Jack wasn't nearly as fast as Beatrice, and Arthur forced himself to rein her in and wait for Bill. He still needed directions, after all.

"Where did you see them O'Driscolls?" he demanded, and Bill pointed.

"In the woods about a mile from town, looks like they'd taken an old Raider camp and were staying there. You think they got Kieran?"

"I have no idea." Arthur grunted. "But those bastards are gonna tell us."

"I'm with you, Arthur." said Bill firmly, giving him a nod. Arthur returned it and then looked straight ahead again over Beatrice's neck, wishing he could see through the trees.

Thankfully they weren't far. "It's close now. We oughta go in on foot." Bill soon told him.

"Probably a good idea." said Arthur, and they both dismounted. "Now, how many of them are there?"

"I only saw three." said Bill.

"Three? You're sure?"

"Well-- no--"

"Whatever. The important thing, Bill, is that we need only one alive, got it? Now c'mon. On my signal." Arthur turned away from Bill and started stalking through the underbrush, pulling out his knife as he went. A few feet away, he could make out Bill, keeping pace but circling wide as they approached the camp, accented voices growing audible.

Arthur stopped and listened to them for a minute, but they only chattered about mundane complaints, nothing useful. He carefully peered around their camp as best he could from the bushes. Bill was right-- it was an old Raider camp the O'Driscolls had taken, and there were only three of them.

That made it easy-- Arthur killed one with his pistol from his hiding spot, and Bill got another at the sound of the shot. That left only one, staring wide-eyed and gape-mouthed at Arthur as he sprang out of the bushes and leapt almost on top of him. He was tied and gagged soon enough, Arthur yanking the knots tight with a jerk.

"Where can we take him?" he asked Bill. "We're too damn exposed out here."

Bill wiped at his brow. "There's a barn nearby, pretty sure it's abandoned. We shouldn't be disturbed, and it's set far back from the road."

Arthur nodded wordlessly and hoisted their struggling cargo up on his shoulder. Bill led him to the dilapidated barn set back in the trees, and they went inside, taking the O'Driscoll with them.

An hour later they emerged again without him.

Arthur was already outpacing Bill as they hurried across the short lawn and back through the trees where their horses were hidden.

"We-- we gotta get back to Dutch, Arthur!" Bill sputtered. Arthur flatly ignored him as he grabbed Beatrice's reins and swung himself up in the saddle. Of course they were gonna go back to Dutch, what the hell did Bill think they were gonna do? He swung Beatrice around and spurred her on heedless of Bill, who was still struggling to hoist himself onto the back of his huge horse. 

Dutch was waiting for Arthur on the front porch when he arrived. He sat conferring with Hosea, who had a tight look of concern on his face, but cut the conversation off when he noticed Arthur and started striding down the driveway.

"Arthur!" Dutch called, while he was still dismounting. "What is this I am hearing from Mary Beth about O'Driscolls in my camp?!"

Arthur stepped closer to Dutch, not sure how many other people were supposed to hear this.

"Apparently Colm has been sending scouts farther east than ever the past several weeks. A couple of 'em that were hangin' around in Rhodes heard stories of that dust-up at the sheriff's office as well as a few other things, and when they found some of those damn raiders bitchin' about how we took Shady Belle they put it together and figured it was us." He tried not to sound accusatory as Dutch listened with narrowed eyes. After all, the next part felt much more like his own fault.

"It was just some stupid coindence that they came scouting over here the same damn night that nearly every one of us was passed out drunk after the party for Jack. They-- they saw Kieran sleeping by the front of the house and figured he'd make a good present for Colm." Arthur mostly kept his composure while Dutch stared at him. Behind Dutch, Hosea had approached and was listening now, too.

"Is Colm nearby then?" Dutch questioned Arthur roughly, jabbing a lit cigar dangerously close to him. "Are they planning an attack here?"

Arthur shook his head and shrugged. He could finally hear Bill arriving up the driveway. "There's a camp they've just established in the northern part of Scarlett Meadows at a place called Face Rock. Colm was supposed to be there sometime late this afternoon and give further instructions then, but the fella we talked to sure seemed convinced Colm was gonna be coming with a lot of men and ordering an attack."

"Yeah!" Bill chimed in. "Said Colm was gonna be bringing as many as twenty or thirty more men, in addition to the nine that were already there in camp."

Dutch quickly looked at Arthur. "And just how _credible_ do you find this information, Arthur?"

Arthur shrugged. "He didn't have any damn idea how many men Colm was actually gonna show up with at Face Rock, but that's definitely where he's gonna be and that's definitely where they took Kieran. And I'm not sure what the hell else Colm would be doing in the area if not coming after us now that he knows where we are."

"Not if we get that bastard first." growled Dutch. "We know exactly where he is, and we know that there's no way they'd be ready to come against us until tomorrow at the earliest. If we ride against them tonight we'll take them completely by surprise, hopefully even catch Colm himself and end this for good. In any case, we'll teach those bastards what happens if they try to attack _our_ camp!"

He turned and motioned for Arthur and the others to follow him as he strode into camp, where the rest of the gang was waiting and trying to listen, either openly or not.

"Everyone, get out here!"

Dutch waited until he had everyone's attention. "Listen. All of you. We have recently discovered those bastard O'Driscolls have infiltrated our camp in our moment of vulnerability. They have taken Kieran, and now Colm himself is planning to lead an attack against us. _He will not get that chance!_ I need everyone to saddle up-- John, Micah, Charles, Javier--"

Sadie was suddenly at Dutch's elbow. "Dutch, let me ride with you!"

Dutch started to pull out of her grasp. "No, Sadie, I need you to stay here, help protect the women and Jack--"

"Dutch, you can't leave me here when you're riding against O'Driscolls, you can't!" Her eyes were wild and desperate, and Dutch seemed to reconsider.

"Well, I need someone to stay here in camp-- Hosea, you and Lenny keep an eye on things back here! The rest of you, let's go! And remember that this is a damn stealth operation, don't be giving us away!"

The eight of them rode hard towards Face Rock, swinging wide around Rhodes to avoid being seen by any of the townsfolk. They didn't bother to talk much until they were drawing close, all of them pulling off the side of the road by Mattock Pond, the last rays of the setting sun showing a row of grim faces. Dutch nodded at Arthur as they gathered around.

"Arthur? How are you thinking we should do this?"

Arthur had been considering it on the ride over. "Charles and I are gonna sneak into camp alone, try to locate Colm and Kieran. The rest of you get into position around the camp and wait for our signal."

He looked at Charles in confirmation, who immediately nodded in agreement.

Dutch turned to the others. "Very well then. The rest of us will pair off too, leave the horses here and go on foot. They've got the advantage being up on a hill, but as long as we keep it down we'll keep the element of surprise on our side. And whatever happens, wait for the damn signal! I want to make sure that Colm doesn't get away from us again."

They split up and went their separate ways, Arthur and Charles making directly for the camp while Dutch and Micah slipped around to the north side, Javier and Bill around to the west, and Sadie and John to the south. Night finished truly falling as they all got into position, an inky blackness interrupted by flickering torchlight.

The O'Driscoll camp was crowded and noisy, with overlapping voices singing, gambling, arguing. Charles and Arthur didn't have too much trouble slipping between the guards and then making their way amongst makeshift tents, some still only half up-- obviously it was true what their "informant" had told them about new men arriving that afternoon. Which meant Colm was definitely here, too.

And if he was anywhere, he was in the big tent at the base of the rock. Arthur jerked his chin silently at Charles, who nodded in understanding. They crept closer and stopped behind a tent close to their destination. Charles made a sound of dismay under his breath.

"That's way too many guards-- if Colm's in there, he might be able to slip away in the confusion."

"Colm's definitely in there." said Arthur.

"Well, I'll try to get into position on the other side then, and see if maybe I can draw some of them away with a small disturbance before we signal everyone else. Might give you a clearer shot."

Arthur nodded. "I'll wait for your signal, then."

Charles slipped away around the other side of the tent, and Arthur turned back around to watch for any sign of Colm. He could hear voices drifting out of the large tent, but couldn't quite identify them. Maybe if he crept closer...

He slipped over to a pile of saddles and gear-- barely enough cover, but then the guards were barely looking his way. They kept looking back behind them, into the large tent, hard smiles on their faces. Arthur could make out the voices, now--

"--to see our little lamb returned to us." That was Colm, the bastard.

"C-Colm, please-- y-y-you already know where the camp is, I-- I can't even t-tell you anything--" _Kieran._ So he was alive still. Arthur's heart was residing somewhere in his throat.

"Oh, but you would tell me, wouldn't you, if I needed to know? I understand that's your usual method of handling things."

"Please, Colm, I--"

"Oh, hush, Kieran. What are you lookin' so nervous for? Don't you know I'm happy to see you? Why, I missed you something terrible, darlin'."

"Colm..."

"Y'know, I especially miss that little song you used to sing-- now, how'd it go? Why don't you sing it for me, darlin'?

" _Colm, p-please--_ "

Where the hell was Charles?! Arthur looked around frantically, but saw no sign of him.

"Oh, that's alright, I think I remember it now. _Way down yonder, in the meadow, poor little lambie crying "Mammy!" Birds and the flies, peck out his eyes--_ "

Kieran _screamed_. Arthur leapt up from his hiding place, completely forgetting about the plan, about Charles, about everything. 

Shot after shot he fired, distantly hearing the rest of the gang join in on the camp's perimeter, but Charles had been right. There were too many O'Driscolls around the large tent, and in the chaos of the firefight Arthur dimly saw what he thought was Colm's hat bobbing away through the sparse crowd. 

Arthur froze, panicked. Colm was getting away-- but Kieran was in the tent--

Charles suddenly appeared next to him. "You go after Colm, I'll make sure Kieran's safe."

Arthur paused just long enough to put a hand on his arm in thanks, and then dashed after Colm, swinging himself up on the back of one of the O'Driscoll horses nearby. He rode as fast as the nag would take him, but Colm had too much of a headstart. Desite Arthur neatly picking off the guards behind him one by one, he was soon nearly out of sight, and Arthur's horse refused to take him any further, nearly bucking him off.

He jumped off her back and stood beside her, leaning against her heaving sides and coughing weakly as exhaustion set in. Still, he had to get back-- see to Kieran, and report to Dutch.

He turned the nag back towards Face Rock and walked her the first part of the way so she could rest. The minute she seemed to have gotten her wind back, he leapt back on and urged her to a gentle trot, the fastest he dared to go. He didn't want to drive her to founder and be left to walk.

Finally he arrived back at Face Rock, now dark under the early morning starlight, all its torches extinguished. Arthur could see Beatrice next to two other horses, and made his way over, amongst the dead O'Driscolls scattered in the camp. There were a lot.

Good.

John and Sadie were waiting for him, playing cards on the back of a box. Sadie jumped up when she saw him, throwing her cards down as John protested.

"Oh, whatever, John, we'll just say you win this hand-- Arthur, did you get Colm?!"

Arthur shook his head, and her shoulders slumped. Then she perked up. "Well, at least we still killed all these bastards! They're gonna think twice before they dare go up against us again!"

"Let's hope so." Arthur muttered. "What about Kieran? Where's he?"

"Charles took him back to Shady Belle with the others. He's gonna be alright, Arthur." Sadie reassured him. Arthur was not reassured.

"What did Colm do to him?" he growled. Sadie looked at John.

John shrugged. "It was hard to get a good look. Charles rode off with him pretty fast. But... uh, he mighta looked like he got hurt in the eye."

Sadie slung an arm around his shoulders. "Look, your boy was a poor shot, anyway, right?" she said in a tone that was obviously meant to be comforting. "So he ain't losin' much. He'll be just fine with one eye."

Arthur shrugged her arm off, horrified. John quickly spoke up. "Well, uh, we couldn't really see for sure."

"There was a hell of a lot of blood coming out of that eye for him to still be able to see out of it!"

Arthur felt queasy. "Can we get back to camp now?!" he demanded.

John and Sadie quit arguing and mounted up with Arthur, heading towards Shady Belle at a quick pace.

Arthur barely took the time to hitch Beatrice up properly when they arrived, leaving John and Sadie behind as he ran up the drive. Charles intercepted him almost immediately.

"He's up in your room, Arthur. Karen and the Reverend are seeing to him."

"Thank you, Charles." said Arthur, gratefully. He went inside and made his way up the stairs two at a time. He was grateful not to run into Dutch; he could take care of any debriefings later. Right now he had something more important to tend to.

He pushed open the door to his room with apprehension. Reverend Swanson and Karen were bent over Arthur's bed, where Kieran struggled and thrashed.

"Hold still, will ya, I'm just trying to clean it for you!" snapped an exasperated Karen. She reached towards Kieran's face with a cloth, and he jerked away with a violent motion, spattering blood over Arthur's bedding.

His face-- the left half seemed almost entirely blank, lost under a waterfall of red. One gray-green eye stared in a blank, wild panic, while the other-- the other was _gone_. Not just plucked out but carved out, the empty red socket gaping horribly wide and round in his face.

Arthur felt sick. "What the hell is going on here?" he demanded. "Why don't you give him some damn morphine?!"

The Reverend shook his head. "I-- I tried, he wouldn't take any--"

Arthur quickly strode to the head of the bed, Karen moving back to make room for him. He reached towards Kieran's face, feeling a stab in his gut when he flinched away.

"N-no! Get away from me!"

"Aw, no, Kieran, it-it's me, honey, you're back home, you're safe--" Arthur hovered his hands over him, desperately trying to reassure him. "It's me, it's Arthur."

Kieran stopped staring around the room and fixed his gaze on him, some awareness seeming to come back to his face.

"Arthur?" he whispered, his voice strained. "My-- my eye hurts."

"I know, honey, I know-- let the Reverend give you some medicine, alright? It'll help with the pain--"

"No! No, I-I don't want to go to sleep!" He pulled away from Arthur again, who remembered how he'd been taken.

"You're safe this time, Kieran, I ain't gonna let anybody take you away from me again." Arthur told him. "Look, you're upstairs in my room, who do you think is gonna get to you here? Let the Reverend help you."

Kieran stared at him, grimacing in pain but obviously still unsure. Finally he gave the tiniest of nods, and Arthur immediately turned and jabbed a finger at Reverend Swanson, who rushed over with his kit.

Arthur didn't watch as the needle slid into Kieran's arm, instead looking at his face, watching the pain slide away into a dim numbness.

"Does it still hurt, baby?" he asked, quietly. Kieran's head lolled as he shrugged.

"Don' care..." he mumbled, and the Reverend nodded.

"I think he should let Karen clean it now."

Arthur stepped back to give her room, standing beside Reverend Swanson as she briskly set to cleaning the wound. Watching her wipe the blood from his face was fine, but when she started scrubbing the empty socket clean Arthur had to look away, turning to stare out the window as the Reverend gave him a pat on the shoulder.

"He got any other injuries?" Arthur asked brusquely, trying to take his mind off of what Karen was doing behind him.

Reverend Swanson shrugged. "Don't think so... but it was a little hard to check, you know. We were mostly concerned about his face. He hasn't complained about anything else, anyway."

Arthur nodded. The Reverend went to help Karen with the bandages then, and soon they had finished their ministrations, Kieran's gaping wound hidden under neatly wrapped white cloth.

Arthur gently put a hand on his face as Karen and the Reverend slipped out the door and left them alone. Kieran looked back up at him with one half-lidded eye and slowly reached up to cover Arthur's hand with one of his own, turning his head to press his face into Arthur's palm.

Arthur felt a rush of emotions-- rage at Colm for taking Kieran's eye, guilty fury at himself for not attacking sooner and preventing it, and not even managing to kill Colm after, biting frustration with Dutch for letting them get found yet again, and of course, heart-breaking dismay for Kieran, caught in a feud between two gangs and left with only one eye. For a moment he felt overwhelmed as it washed over him-- and then something seemed to break, and he felt only exhausted.

He pulled Kieran's blood-soaked shirt over his head and then climbed into the narrow bed beside him, wrapping his arms tightly around him and pulling him close so they'd both have room. He was home, that's what mattered for now. They were both home, they were safe, they were together.

Finally, as dawn shone in the window, they slept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Allow me to rant: the way this gets handled in the game is dumb. Why does nobody even care that Kieran disappears?! He obviously hasn't wandered off since he never leaves by himself, and even if he did just decide to skedaddle, wouldn't Dutch still be concerned about him selling out the gang to the Pinkertons or to Colm?? Instead they all just kinda shrug (except for Mary Beth) and then are completely blindsided by the attack. Even worse, everyone seems to think he sold out the gang--even the official wiki says so! That makes no sense! Obviously the O'Driscolls had to kidnap him from camp (since he never leaves) and therefore knew where it was already--not like it would even be that hard to find, apparently everyone knew where it was. Braithwaites, Pinkertons, whoever the hell is delivering Mary's letters, all kinds of people just waltz right into camp all the damn time, why not O'Driscolls??
> 
> Honestly, it was originally my main inspiration to start this fic. Kieran just deserves better.


	17. Chapter 17

Arthur woke slowly, still feeling groggy. The dimness of the room didn't help; at first, Arthur thought he had slept all the way through the day and on to the next night, but after a moment the rolling shadows on the wall told him there was a wicked thunderstorm brewing outside, keeping the room dark.

In his arms, Kieran still slept soundly. "Bless this rain." Arthur muttered, gratefully.

Kieran stirred slightly at the sound of his voice, and Arthur bit his lip. For a moment it seemed as though he'd just go to sleep again, but then he suddenly seemed to wake in an instant, violently flinching away from Arthur and flinging out his arms.

"G-get away--" he stammered, and then he flailed himself out of bed completely, landing hard on the floor and hitting his head against Arthur's chest with a sickening crack.

Arthur jumped down onto the floor next him, wrapping his arms around him and carefully cradling his head as he groaned.

"Here, now, dar-- baby, are you alright?" Arthur asked, concerned. Kieran looked blearily around the room.

"W-where--?" he mumbled.

"You're in my room, back at Shady Belle." Arthur told him. "You don't remember us coming to take you back?"

Kieran started to shake his head, then winced in pain at the motion. 

"I remember Colm finally arriving..." he whispered. "God, after two days I thought you weren't coming!"

There was a hollow pit now somewhere around where Arthur's stomach ought to be.

"The day after the party I was in St. Denis." He said helplessly. "Mary sent me a letter asking me to meet her. It wasn't til the next mornin'-- Mary Beth told me you were gone as soon as I was back in camp, but it wasn't til Bill came and told me there were O'Driscoll's hanging around that we figured out what must have happened. After Bill and I had ourselves a talk with one of them we knew to go to Face Rock, but it was still a long ride. We got there after Colm, but I heard him in there with you, heard him singing that fucking song--! I was trying to wait for Charles to get into place before we attacked, but I couldn't wait any more after _that_ \-- moved too late to help you and save your eye, but too early to stop that damn bastard from getting away. What the hell kind of fool am I?!"

He pulled his arms in tighter around Kieran, who kept clutching at his head but pressed his face against Arthur's shoulder.

"The kind who rode to rescue me." he whispered hoarsely. Arthur could hear pain straining his voice.

"It wasn't just me, Dutch had everybody riding. You want me to go get the Reverend?"

Kieran made a noise in his throat. 

"I don't want any more morphine! And was Dutch riding for me? Or for Colm?" he said accusingly, and Arthur flinched.

"I-- look, we can't stay here on the floor. Come back up on the bed, I'm sorry I woke you up to begin with." 

Kieran let the subject go, silently letting Arthur pull him to his feet and guide him back into the bed. He put Kieran closest to the wall--hopefully making him feel more secure with Arthur between him and the open door, as well as leaving Arthur free to get up without disturbing him again.

He climbed in after Kieran, leaving the blanket off of them in the afternoon heat and just wrapping his arms around him. Kieran flinched uncomfortably as they settled and shifted around, obviously favoring some new bruises, and Arthur flinched himself as a new thought occured to him.

"Kieran." he asked heavily. "Colm didn't-- he didn't hurt you anywhere else, did he?"

To his relief, Kieran made that same noise in his throat again, obviously not wanting to shake his head.

"No time. Got there just before you." His words were clipped, his fingers digging into Arthur's arms.

"Baby, you sure you don't want the Reverend's help? I promise you, ain't nobody gonna get through me to snatch you again up here. You can let him put you back to sleep, it's alright."

He could feel Kieran hesitating. Finally, it seemed, the pain won out.

"Go get him." he whispered tiredly, letting go of Arthur with a reluctant slowness.

Arthur slipped out of bed and then into the hall, shutting the door behind him. He peeked over the landing and didn't spot anyone below. Good.

He trotted down the stairs and then out the back door of Shady Belle, into the backyard. He peered through the gloom-- the storm overhead was about to break, and it was nearly as dark as night even though it had to be mid-afternoon at the latest.

Seeing no one out back but Strauss, he slipped around the side, determined to find Swanson quickly. However, he ran into Charles first.

"Arthur!" he hailed. "How's Kieran?"

Arthur motioned him to follow as he kept walking. "He'll recover, due in no small part to you. I want to thank you for that."

Charles shook his head. "I was just keeping a promise I made to you a while ago, Arthur. And about what happened in that camp... turns out I went the wrong way, and got blocked in by some of them. I couldn't make my way back around in time, and you were already firing off shots before I could get into position. I'm sorry."

Arthur shrugged. "It ain't your fault. I should have--" Should have what? Waited for Colm to gouge out Kieran's other eye? There wasn't really anything Arthur could have done differently.

Ahead of him, he finally spotted Reverend Swanson sitting over by the fire. He gave a wave to Charles, who nodded as Arthur left to quickly make his way over to the Reverend.

He was glad to see Swanson looking at least mostly sober when he scrambled to his feet at Arthur's approach.

"How is he?" he asked, and Arthur jerked his chin at him.

"That's what I'm here for. Need you upstairs."

He turned and started walking back to the house without another word, hearing Swanson scrambling to get his things together behind him. 

Karen actually ended up in step behind Arthur first, when she noticed him making his way back up the porch and moved to follow.

"I'll at least come and make sure it's still clean and not festerin'." she told Arthur when he glanced back, questioning.

With all three of them it was once again crowded in Arthur's small room upstairs. He pushed past the others to go sit by Kieran on the bed, hating the way he was huddled up by himself, arms wrapped around his knees.

At first Karen stepped back to let Reverend Swanson and his kit get to work first, but Kieran held up a hand to stop him.

"I wanna see it first." he mumbled resolutely.

Karen grimaced. "Whatever you want, I guess, but it's kinda gruesome. I'd wait til it heals a bit."

"I wanna see what he did to it." said Kieran firmly. A sudden thought occured to Arthur.

"Ah, Kieran, honey, you-- you know that that eye is gone, right?"

The look on Kieran's face made it suddenly clear he _hadn't_ known, and Arthur patted him awkwardly on the shoulder while Karen busied herself starting to undo his bandages. How, exactly, did you comfort someone who'd just found out his eye was gone?

He settled for continuing the awkward patting, until, thankfully, Kieran's hand reached out and found Arthur's other one in his lap, entwining their fingers with a squeeze. After a few moments it felt like the bones of Arthur's hand might crack, Kieran was gripping so tightly, but Arthur held on without complaint, grateful to at least be able to offer this.

He barely noticed when Karen finished with the bandages. "Got a mirror, Arthur?" she asked, and Arthur remembered himself, reaching over his shoulder with his spare hand to grab his shaving mirror. Karen helped him to hold it steady in front of Kieran so he could see himself. 

"At least it's healing clean." said Karen cheerfully. Kieran just stared, his face gray. 

Arthur looked at it himself and had to wince. Only hours after the injury, the wound still looked _raw_ , scabs half-formed and blood still oozing after the bandages had been disturbed. Worst of all was the depth and hollowness of it, even the muscle and tendon that had formerly lined the socket scraped down to what Arthur swore looked like bone in a few places. What the hell had Colm even used?!

Kieran turned away.

"That's enough." he muttered, and Karen let go of the mirror so Arthur could set it back with the rest of his shaving kit.

Reverend Swanson stepped up then with his needle ready, and Kieran turned his face into Arthur's shoulder while he held out his arm. Soon his head was lolling again, and he let Karen rebandage his eye without a murmur. 

Arthur had planned on just resting with Kieran, if not going right back to sleep after Swanson and Karen left, but was surprised to notice a figure lingering in the doorway after they slipped out.

"Do you have a moment, Arthur?" Dutch asked him, quietly. Arthur looked down at Kieran.

"Well-- he's sleeping now, I guess..." He got out of bed slowly, telling himself that Kieran would be safe without him, and followed Dutch out onto the front balcony, where Hosea was waiting. The rain had started pouring down now, a perfect curtain of water around the three of them.

"I want to talk about what happened." Dutch started, and what followed was an exhausting debriefing. Dutch seemed to want to talk about every detail of what happened at Face Rock-- exactly what Arthur had heard beforehand from that O'Driscoll, what he'd seen in their camp, what he'd heard, how many men, how many tents, how many horses-- it went on and on and on, til Dutch finally seemed to be satisfied. He nodded and gave Arthur a pat on the shoulder before lighting another cigar.

"You did well, son. Colm may have gotten away, but I am confident that he will not dare to move against us again-- not anytime soon, anyway. We should be perfectly safe here for the amount of time it takes to set up the final score that we need."

Hosea groaned, and Arthur nearly jumped. He'd practically forgotten Hosea was there; he'd just silently let Dutch speak the whole time.

"So you're really planning on staying here then, Dutch?" he asked, sounding disappointed. "I don't know how I feel about moving into another gang's hideout to begin with, and I especially don't know how I feel about it now that Colm knows where we are!"

Dutch waved away his concerns, spreading smoke about the patio that made Arthur cough. "We are perfectly safe, Hosea! Colm understands now-- the _consequences_ of trying to move against us! He wouldn't dare. I know it. I know Colm-- trust me."

Hosea sighed heavily. "I just-- I just want everyone to be safe, Dutch, you know that."

"You worry too much." Dutch told him, with a jab of his cigar. "Try to relax, will you?"

And with that, he left to go downstairs. 

Hosea sighed again. "I just don't know about all this, Arthur. They managed to take Kieran right out from under our damn noses-- just doesn't seem like any part of this should really be counted as a success, y'know?" He rubbed at the bridge of his nose. "How is he, anyway?"

Arthur realized something that was bothering him about Dutch and everything that he'd said during the debriefing-- every single question, every single word, had been only about Colm. It seems Kieran had known exactly who he'd been riding for.

"He'll be fine." he answered Hosea, shaking his head and trying to put it out his mind. "Colm took one of his eyes out though, damn him."

Hosea winced. "Yeah, I heard about as much from Charles. Cold comfort, but at least he wasn't a triggerman."

Arthur snorted. "That's about what Sadie said."

"Is that so?" Hosea perked up and gave Arthur a wink. "Sadie's a smart woman, you know."

"She's about half-insane, but I guess this time you and her are right. Coulda been a lot worse, bad as it is."

Hosea gave him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder as the thunder continued to roll around them, and Arthur suddenly remembered something.

"Say, Hosea, you still giving readin' lessons to little Jack?"

Hosea shrugged. "When I have time, sure. Things have been a little shook up the last few days, but I expect we'll get back on our old routine soon enough."

"Well... I do understand if you are too busy, but would you mind giving Kieran a lesson or two once in a while? I promised to teach him, but I'm thinkin' that you might be a better teacher than me."

"Seein' as how I'm the one that taught you in the first place?" asked Hosea with a grin. "Sure, I don't mind. Might be nice to have another adult to give lessons to. Jack does tend to scowl at me when he doesn't feel like practicing any more."

"Well, I can't promise nothin' about scowling, but-- thanks, Hosea."

Hosea just shrugged it off and gave Arthur a clap on the shoulder. "Don't mention it. Now, if you don't mind, I've got something I need to attend to. And, if I'm not mistaken," he raised an eyebrow at Arthur. "You do, too."

Arthur remembered how long he'd left Kieran with a pang of guilt. When he left Hosea and went back to his room, however, Kieran was sound asleep, curled around Arthur's pillow.

Arthur closed the door and crossed the room as silently as he could-- Kieran had to be the lightest damn sleeper he'd ever known. He slowly, carefully pulled the pillow out of his arms and slipped within their circle himself, guiding Kieran's hands around his shoulders. The sound of the rain drumming on the roof outside the ruined window across the room drowned out any sound from the rest of the house-- Arthur could almost believe that they were alone in the world for at least that evening.

He dreamt again of the big white house when he slept, Kieran peeking at him almost shyly around the doorway, his face half-hidden.

\- ...-

The next few days were the most difficult-- Kieran refused any more morphine and just suffered through the worst of it, fitfully sleeping half the days away in Arthur's arms and nearly crushing his hand while his bandages were being changed.

Soon, however, he thankfully entered what seemed to be a better stage of recovery. He still spent the days mostly in bed, but was slowly regaining his cheer and didn't look like he was in pain constantly ("As long as I don't move my head or think about it at all, it's fine." he'd told Arthur). Arthur brought him food from downstairs and spent the mornings starting to finally teach him the alphabet letter by letter, writing them large in a page of his journal so Kieran could trace his finger over them as he recited along with Arthur.

In the afternoons he tended to grow tired, so Arthur would leave him and go downstairs. Besides keeping up with the chores to calm Miss Grimshaw, he now had two horses to care for daily.

Branwen turned out to be a handful-- she had always seemed calm and sweet-tempered, but Arthur found out quickly she was only that way for Kieran. She'd been glad enough to see Arthur after being left alone for two days, but when it was still him and not Kieran who came to brush her again the next day she was _not_ happy. She nipped at his fingers and tried to kick him constantly (once succeeding, putting him flat on his back) until after a few days he was at his wit's end. Kieran just laughed when Arthur finally told him about it, and offered up his shirt. Arthur rolled his eyes but took it-- it was too small for him to wear, but when he wrapped it around his wrist Branwen finally settled at Kieran's scent on it, and let Arthur brush her without fuss (though not without suspicion still).

Arthur also tried to start bringing in some money again. The carriage he tried to rob with Lenny one day, however, turned out to be a plant and a disaster. He was rather disgusted to admit that the job with Micah and Bill a few days later turned out much more successful-- maybe because Sean wasn't there to get shot this time, Arthur had thought to himself sourly.

Going out in the swamp with Pearson a night or two after that had been an altogether much more agreeable affair. They'd caught two entire bags of crawfish, and Arthur even got the chance to see Pearson sprint, getting some gators to chase him while Arthur raided the nests for eggs. Not only was it highly entertaining, unlike robbing carriages with that asshole Micah it came with the reward of a crawfish boil the next day.

He brought a whole bowl of it up to Kieran and watched him gorge himself til the juice was running down his chin. Arthur went to kiss it off for him and Kieran kissed him back, and for just a moment everything was hot spices and sighs, heat and humidity and distant thunder rolling and Arthur thought in the back of his mind that maybe the swamp was at least half-alright, when suddenly Kieran winced as he moved his head too fast and drew back.

"Ah, sorry, dar-- sorry." Arthur apologized, wincing himself. Kieran gave him a funny look.

"Arthur... y'know, Colm ain't the only one in the world who ever called me "darlin'". You can still call me that."

Arthur shrugged, suddenly self-conscious. "I know, I just... I didn't like hearin' him say it."

Kieran handed the bowl of crawfish shells to Arthur to set down on the floor and then settled against his chest. "Well... maybe I used to like hearing you say it, is all."

"Whatever you want, darlin'." said Arthur, sighing before he was taken by a sudden cough. Damn spices-- normally Pearson didn't use any, so apparently more than one person had snuck over to the pot to make up for his lack. It was delicious but eye-watering. And apparently cough-inducing, Arthur told himself. 

Kieran glanced up at him. "Arthur, did you say that you breathed in a lot of smoke when you burned down that manor house?"

Arthur frowned, surprised at the question. "I breathed in some, sure, but I dunno about a lot--"

"Well, how much?" Kieran demanded, and Arthur shrugged in confusion.

"I don't know, some? Why does it matter, Kieran?"

"Well... just noticed you been coughin' some, is all." said Kieran, with a shrug. Arthur thought about it.

"Well, I guess a bit... has it really been that much?"

Kieran nodded as he yawned. "You been coughin' in your sleep the last few nights."

"Huh. Maybe I breathed in more smoke than I thought, then. My lungs must be irritated or something from it."

Kieran's eye was already slipping shut. "Well, you better just take it easy here with me, then." he murmured.

"Think I will. Least for now." Arthur whispered back to him, and started to close his own eyes.

A nudge from Kieran kept him awake. "Hey, Arthur." he whispered. "I forgot I had something I wanted to ask you."

He shifted so his mouth was closer to Arthur's ear, speaking so quietly that even someone standing in the room wouldn't have heard.

"I been kinda thinking for a while. What if Dutch hadn't gotten everybody to ride up after Colm?"

Arthur understood now why he was being so quiet-- Dutch and Molly slept right on the other side of the wall. He answered in the same near-silent whisper.

"Course I'd have come after you anyway. I'd have found a way, I promise you that." Still, he was thinking of his talk with Dutch out on the balcony. Of course Colm was Dutch's main concern-- but Kieran hadn't even been a footnote in the conversation.

Kieran's hand had found Arthur's now, gripping tightly.

"What if Dutch had told you not to?" he whispered.

Arthur frowned. "Dutch wouldn't do that."

"But what if he did?" Kieran insisted. "What if he told you not to? What if he told you not to come back if you did?"

Arthur pulled back slightly, blinking and taken aback. "Well, I-- I'd talk some damn sense into him--"

"Arthur."

His grip on Arthur's hand was tight, his voice insistent. Arthur swallowed.

"You know I'd still come after you." he whispered. "I-- I don't know about Dutch, but I wouldn't leave you. Only reason it took me so long was 'cause I needed to find out where you were."

Kieran finally relaxed against him, and soon he was sleeping while Arthur lay awake for a time, left with the feeling he'd just made a promise that he didn't fully understand the magnitude of. He put the thought out of his head as the rain started up yet again outside, the steady sound soon putting him to sleep along with Kieran.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So far this has been my favorite chapter to write, hope you enjoy reading it just as much!

"Oh, cheer up." Karen told Arthur, rolling her eyes.

There were sitting together in the back of one of the camp wagons, on their way to St. Denis under the brutal midday sun. Normally Arthur insisted on driving himself, but Kieran had wanted Branwen to pull the wagon ("She hasn't had any decent exercise in ages") and since she wouldn't behave for anyone else that meant Kieran had the reins. Arthur was trying not to grumble about it too much; the only reason they were taking the wagon at all was that Kieran thought it would be easier on his head than riding.

It had been a couple of weeks now since the fight at Face Rock, and while Kieran's eye was nowhere close to fully healed, it was better enough (and Kieran was restless enough) that he and Arthur had agreed when Karen asked them to take her to St. Denis. 

At least the trip was providing some entertainment for Kieran, Arthur told himself. He was whistling happily as he drove them down the road, seemingly oblivious to the oppressive heat that had Arthur and Karen wilting behind him. It probably helped that his wound had scabbed over well enough for him to trade his bandages for a soft leather eyepatch Pearson had made for him; Arthur couldn't imagine being in this dreadful humidity with cotton wrapped around your head.

It seemed to take an eternity to finally reach the city, and then after parking the wagon they still had to walk several blocks before they were standing in front of their destination.

"This it?" asked Karen, squinting at the sign in the window. "Where they got him at, upstairs?"

"Uh, yeah. They got a set of rooms for long term patients up there. Pretty fancy." Kieran held open the door of the doctor's office for Karen and she passed by him into the lobby. 

Arthur took the door from Kieran and shooed him inside with a suspicious look. "Fancy? How much is this costing me, anyway?"

"Uh..."

"Can I help you?" The nurse attending the front desk interrupted them.

"Sorry, uh, we're here to see Sean MacGuire?"

The nurse nodded with disinterest and pointed at a door on the other side of the small entryway. "Just up the stairs, on the right."

Arthur waited until they were in the stairwell with the door closed behind them before he reached out and grabbed Kieran by the shoulder.

"Kieran!" he hissed. "Did you give them Sean's real name?! You know he's a wanted man!"

Kieran turned around to look at him, and Arthur was dismayed to see that his _How dumb can you be?_ look had not been diminished in the slightest by the loss of an eye.

"Arthur, do you know how many Sean MacGuires there are in Ireland?" He shrugged off Arthur's hand with a roll of his eye and motioned for Arthur to keep following him up the stairs, which he did while still arguing.

"Y'know, we're not exactly _in_ Ireland, Kieran..."

"No, but enough of them already came here. Hush, now, you're supposed to be quiet upstairs."

He led Arthur and Karen out of the stairwell and into the upstairs portion of the hospital. It was eerily quiet up here. Soft white curtains on the window absorbed the sounds of the city while still letting the bright sunlight through to fall on the honey-colored hardwood floors with their soft blue carpets. They took the door on the right, which opened onto a small but brightly-lit room, decorated in white. For a moment Arthur had to shield his eyes against the bright light coming from the window on the other wall, then--

"Arthur Morgan!" came a familiar voice. "Good to see ya, big man!"

Arthur's vision cleared, and there was Sean. He was laying on the bed, sitting up over the blanket against the headboard, dressed in unfamiliar but clean clothes. His long hair had been shorn, and there was a bandage plastered to his head above one eye, but beyond that he looked much the same as ever. "Come to see me off then, are ya? The nurse has me packing my things, only got a few more days, they tell me."

He sounded as cheerful as ever, with the same sparkle in his eyes above his lopsided grin, and Arthur couldn't stop smiling.

"Well, I'm not surprised they're tired of you, you've probably been talking their damn ears off! How are ya, Sean?"

It wasn't until Sean rose to clasp Arthur's outstretched arm that he realized his other hand was gripping a wooden cane. He looked down at it questioningly, and Sean shrugged, not looking at him.

"I'm afraid future plans are lookin' a bit different for Sean MacGuire." he said, quietly.

"So-- so you're still having balance issues?" asked Kieran nervously from behind Arthur, and Sean jumped when he noticed Kieran's eyepatch.

"Yeah, bit of a wobble still-- but holy hell, man, what happened to you? Is that eye _gone_?!"

"Colm O'Driscoll happened." Arthur told him grimly, while Kieran leaned forward and let Sean peek under the patch.

Sean grimaced and gave a low whistle. "Quite a hole, damn the bastard."

"Well, we made damn sure he paid for it with a lesson he won't soon forget."

Sean chuckled darkly at that. "Oh, yeah? Tell me about it, why don't y-- is that someone else that came with you?"

Arthur suddenly realized he and Kieran were alone with Sean in the room. He turned back to the doorway, where a cascade of blonde curls and a single peeking eye could barely be seen.

"Is that Karen?" said Sean, his voice shaking. "Did-- did you really come to see me, Karen?"

And suddenly Karen was in the middle of the room, staring at Sean, her chest heaving. "Course I came to see you, you idiot!" she whispered, and then she and Sean just looked at each other.

"Uh, I think Arthur and I have some errands to run in the city." Kieran immediately muttered, already starting to push Arthur out the door. Arthur let himself be pushed, and stopped to laugh with Kieran when they were back in the stairwell.

"Did I ever look at you like that in camp? Cause if so, you were perfectly right to call me obvious."

Kieran rolled his eyes as his cheeks turned pink. "Oh, Arthur, you're much worse than that."

"What!" Arthur exclaimed in mock-offense. "Never!"

They were pressed close together in the narrow stairwell, and Arthur glanced quickly up the stairs before daring to lean forward and press a kiss on Kieran, who smiled back and started to wrap an arm around his waist--

Just on the other side of the door, the nurse at the front desk suddenly pushed her chair back with a loud nose, and they both jumped. Arthur cleared his throat.

"C'mon." he muttered sheepishly, and they quickly walked out past the nurse, trying to look casual, though Arthur could feel himself smirking.

Out on the street, the noise and bustle of the city seemed suddenly magnified after the muffled quiet of the doctor's office. Arthur looked at Kieran.

"Well, where to now?" he asked. "I'm guessing you don't actually have any errands to run..."

"Well, no, I figured we just needed to get out of there." said Kieran, laughing. "We could go to the one of the rich parts of town, watch the horses go by."

"I just thought of something better, actually." said Arthur, as an idea occured to him. "How'd you like to go see an art gallery?"

Kieran looked at him like he'd just grown a second head. "A what? Arthur Morgan, are you feeling alright?"

"An art gallery!" Arthur repeated, laughing. He remembered the drawing in his satchel and pulled it out to show Kieran. "See, this artist I met--"

Kieran's slap on the back of his head nearly sent him into traffic. " _Arthur Morgan you are not taking me to some--some seedy place--_ "

"No, no--" Arthur tried to come back to Kieran's side only to get slapped again, laughing too hard to defend himself. "I-I swear, Kieran, it's-- it's a respectable establishment--"

" _Like hell!_ What kind of 'respectable establishment' has pictures like that, Arthur, it's a disgrace--"

Arthur had to sit down on the curb and wipe the tears from his eyes.

"No, he's French-- a French artist--"

"Oh, _that_ makes it better."

Arthur was laughing hard enough to start wheezing and coughing now, so Kieran stopped and waited with folded arms for him to catch his breath.

"No, Kieran, I swear," Arthur tried again when he could once more speak. "His name is Charles Chatenay, he's a painter from France that I met a while back in a St. Denis saloon, and he invited me to his exhibit at this gallery. It's on the rich side of town, in a _nice_ place, Kieran, I promise!"

Kieran looked at him disbelievingly and gestured to the drawing. "And _that's_ the kind of painting this artist friend of yours makes. In this nice gallery."

Arthur shrugged, trying not to start laughing again. "Well, he said he had a very modern vision, or something. And I don't know that they're _all_ like that..."

Kieran seemed unconvinced, but after a moment he seemed to get a funny glint in his eye.

"Well, if this gallery you want to go to is in the nice part of town..." he started slowly, looking down at his clothes. Arthur followed his gaze. Since Arthur had bought them for him at the St. Denis tailor a few months before, Kieran's clothes had been muddied, torn, bloodied, and patched. "You'd better buy me something presentable to wear."

Arthur raised an eyebrow with a snort. "Ain't you got money of your own? Why do I gotta buy it?"

"Because you're the one who wants to go to the gallery." Kieran pointed out, giving him a smirk as he started down the street towards the tailor's. Arthur threw his hands in the air but followed him.

Last time they'd come to the city together, Kieran had seemed cowed by the bustle of the crowds around them, but now he pushed nimbly through the throngs until Arthur struggled to keep up with him. He himself had never mastered the art of timing a St. Denis street crossing in particular, and whenever Kieran darted across one of the busy avenues, weaving between the carts and riders, Arthur usually took several minutes to follow. Kieran also seemed to have already conquered the maze of alleyways connecting the city that Arthur still got lost in, and soon he started running literal circles around Arthur, popping up behind him every time he finally managed to cross the damn street and tapping him on the shoulder to startle him. Arthur wanted to get exasperated, but Kieran laughed so hard every time he somehow forgot to be angry.

"Thought you didn't like the city any better than I did!" he finally exclaimed after the third time Kieran made him jump. "When did you get to be so damn at home here?"

He tried to keep the resentment out of his voice as Kieran laughed. Arthur never seemed to feel more comfortable in St. Denis, no matter how often he visited.

"Ah, it's just a big town, Arthur. Ain't all that different, really, there's just more of everything."

Arthur was pretty skeptical of that, but they were already at the tailor's shop by then. Kieran went up the steps ahead of him, turning back inside the doorway.

"Hurry up, _Uncle_." he teased before disappearing inside, and Arthur groaned as he remembered the story they'd told the tailor last time. "Uncle" it was, then.

He followed Kieran into the tailor's shop, suddenly back in that vaguely unreal, muffled world he'd left behind in the doctor's office. The tailor greeted him as he entered.

"Ah, sir! Welcome back! I thought I recognized your nephew-- looks like he's had an accident, though. I hope it wasn't too serious?"

Arthur gave him a _Mind your business_ sort of glare. "He'll be fine." he grunted.

The tailor took the hint and dropped the subject. "Ah, may I ask what you're shopping for then, sir?"

"Lookin' to get the kid kitted out again-- need somethin' a lot fancier this time, though. Got a gallery to attend across town."

The tailor nodded with a quirk of his eyebrow. Soon he had the measuring tape out again, and Arthur busied himself looking at boots while he went about his work.

He'd lost track of time a bit by the time there came a tap on his shoulder. He turned to see Kieran dressed in his new clothes.

Arthur had to blink. Standing in an impeccably fitted high-collared white shirt, with a deep blue silk vest and cleverly knotted gray tie, Kieran suddenly seemed to stand taller, his shoulders straighter. He looked more at ease in the fancy clothes than Arthur had ever felt in similar garb; if it weren't for his scruffy hair and beard he might have blended with any of the young men outside. Slightly dazzled, it took Arthur a moment to realize Kieran was holding something out. He took it with a raised eyebrow.

"Figured you're looking a little worn out, too." said Kieran by way of answer.

Arthur held up the garment Kieran had handed him-- a silk vest to match the one Kieran had on, in a vivid scarlet. Kieran shrugged, his cheeks matching the vest.

Arthur shook his head. "Damn tailor's making a fortune today." he muttered, for of course he'd have to get a new shirt to match the vest, and then a new tie to match the shirt...

Soon the tailor was totaling it all up for him at the counter, Arthur grimacing as the sum went higher and higher. He distracted himself by turning to look at Kieran across the shop, feeling a smile creep across his face.

"I can see you care a lot for your nephew." Arthur turned back, startled, to see the tailor looking at him somewhat curiously.

"Spittin' image of my sister, God rest her soul." Arthur lied easily.

 _And you called Sean MacGuire obvious..._ He scolded himself, as he pulled the money out of his pocket to pay.

Arthur and Kieran walked back out onto the street together, looking much smarter but with pockets much lighter (Arthur's pockets, at least). Kieran turned to him.

"Barber next?" he asked, and Arthur couldn't resist.

"Why, Kieran Duffy!" he teased. "Never thought I'd see the day when you'd willingly submit to a shave!"

Kieran glowered at him. "The _hell_ I'm gettin' a shave! Now, a trim, maybe..."

Arthur laughed, and soon they were in and out of the barbers, beards neatly trimmed and hair pomaded. 

Standing outside, Kieran idly watched the horses trot by while Arthur tried to remember how to get to the gallery.

It was awfully hard to remember anything, though, with Kieran standing in front of him. He stood completely at ease in his fancy clothes, and after the trip to the barber's, the illusion was complete: Kieran looked absolutely identical to any of the high-class men mingling amongst the workers around him-- other than the dark leather patch over his eye, and even that seemed to serve now to make him look roguish and mysterious. With his hair pomaded back, Arthur could clearly see the graceful line of his jaw, and the beautiful blue of his vest brought out the color and sparkle in his eye. Arthur was absolutely smitten all over again.

Kieran turned back to look at him, curious at what was taking so long, and sighed indulgently at the look on Arthur's face.

"Come on, Uncle." he said, smiling, taking Arthur's arm and starting to pull him along. "We don't want to miss this exhibit, do we?"

Between the two of them, they eventually found the small staircase that led up to the art gallery. Arthur was somewhat relieved to see that it was just as fancy as he'd promised Kieran; the place was bedecked with Greek statues and silk curtains. Arthur spotted some fine cigars laid out on a plate and started to take one, but Kieran gave him a scowl. 

"You been coughin'!" he hissed disapprovingly, and Arthur left it on the plate with a sigh. 

In the front room of the gallery they passed by an exhibit that looked oddly familiar to Arthur. 

"Hold on, I know these photos..." he muttered, when Kieran suddenly pointed. 

"Arthur, there's a picture of you on the wall!"

Arthur looked where Kieran was pointing. "Huh! So there is!"

He suddenly realized what he was looking at and laughed loud enough to earn a disapproving look from some of the fancy types nearby. 

"Well, imagine that! Al included me in his exhibit of wild creatures!" Kieran gave him a look of confusion, and Arthur gestured at the other pictures, the rest of which were of animals. "I met this photographer out in the wilderness a few times, helped him get some photos without getting eaten. Didn't think I'd end up on some gallery wall, who'd'a thunk!"

Kieran stared at the photos. "You get up to the strangest things, Arthur."

"You think that's strange, I oughta tell you about this Dragic fella I met once... but let's get on to Charles's exhibit, for now." Arthur could already hear a murmur of unhappy voices coming from the room next door and was eager to get to the entertainment. 

They passed through the doorway into the main exhibit and found a crowd of St. Denis cityfolk milling about the room, tittering and muttering to themselves with red cheeks and wounded sensibilities. 

"Bit too...modern, for my tastes." One man muttered, and Kieran very much seemed to agree. He stared at the paintings along with the crowd, his eye perfectly round, jaw dropped in horror. Charles seemed to dabble in a wide variety of art styles, none of which Arthur knew the name of, and all of which were currently being employed in his exhibit to proudly display the nude human form in a variety of inventive poses. 

Arthur spotted the artist himself across the room and dragged Kieran over, grinning. 

"There's Charles, I'll introduce you-- Charles!"

Charles saw him coming and gave a nod. "Ah, Arthur Morgan, the American cowboy! You 'ave come to my exhibit, which I will admit I was not actually expecting. And who is this with you?"

Arthur laughed. "Charles Chatenay, the French artist!" he greeted him. "Course I showed up, I wasn't gonna miss this show. And this is Kieran, my, uh... nephew."

Charles gave Kieran a quick glance up and down. "Nephew, hmm?" he said in a tone of utter disbelief. "Is that the term they use in America, then?"

Arthur just laughed it off. Charles always seemed to make him laugh when other men would infuriate. 

"What, they got another word for nephew in France?" he asked, and Charles roared with laughter along with him. 

"Oh, many words, my friend, many words that I would surely be thrown out of this backwards city for even uttering, the philistines!"

"I have no idea what that means." said Arthur indulgently. Beside him, he noticed that Kieran's face had acquired an odd, pinched expression that he couldn't quite recall ever seeing before.

They were interrupted then by a stout woman stomping towards them with imminent purpose.

"Look at these idiots." Charles muttered as she drew close.

"Mr. Chatenay!" she trumpeted, gesturing with an accusing finger towards one of the paintings. "Couldn't you have painted some drawers on her?!"

Kieran was nodding vigorously, but Charles shook his head, rejecting the notion. "Madame," he said grandly. "I paint 'er in 'er natural state! As she was and will be in paradise!"

"Ain't nothin' natural about that!"

"Clothes are civilization! Repression! Death! To be naked is to be free! Innocent! _Alive!_ Like Buddha said, you know, we are all just here to fuck!"

Kieran gasped with the rest of the room and Arthur guffawed. 

"Well!" said the townswoman, drawing herself up. "That explains the decadence of those Hottentots."

"Hey!" Came an angry voice from behind them. "That's a picture of my wife! In her-- delicates!"

Another woman shrieked beside him. "Henry! Is that your behind?! Why would you be showing to that man?"

"That's my momma! A-as nude as the day she was born!" A third person was yelling now. 

The whole place started to erupt as Arthur watched in delight. Soon enough the women fled while it came to curses and blows amongst the men. Arthur easily dispatched the two St. Denis gentlemen who foolishly squared off against him, and went looking for where Charles and Kieran had disappeared to in the confusion. 

He found them waiting by the ticket booth, Kieran looking slightly horrified to be standing that close to Charles. They both quickly started following Arthur out the door when he appeared.

"This show is well and truly over!" Charles declared. "Let's get out of here. Come on, I know a place where I can disappear for a few days."

He took the lead once they were outside, showing Arthur and Kieran down a maze of alleys until they were at an apartment door that Charles eagerly knocked on.

"I hope to see you again sometime-- my angel! My little bird! It's me!" He disappeared inside, laughing.

With Charles thus safely deposited in his "little bird's" little lovenest, Arthur sat on the curb and just laughed at the scandalized look on Kieran's face.

"C'mon." he said finally, wiping at the corner of his eye. "We oughta get back to Karen and Sean."

Kieran shrugged. "We got time for a whiskey, don't we? I, uh... I don't wanna interrupt them."

"I don't think Sean takes that long, but I wouldn't say no to a whiskey." And then Arthur was laughing again as Kieran looked even more scandalized, and they headed off to the saloon.

Bellied up against the bar with shots in hand, Arthur surveyed the room for a moment while Kieran drank, and a thought occured to him, one he'd thought about before.

"Say, Kieran." he said, leaning close and pitching his voice low. "You said you used to go looking for company in the different places you travelled to. But how'd you even find men like that?"

Kieran shrugged, looking slightly uncomfortable. "Well, there's one in every town, Arthur. At least."

"Well, sure, I'm not doubting they exist. But I mean, how on earth do you ever know which ones when you gotta be so-- discreet?"

"Well, how'd you know with me?" Kieran asked him, and it was Arthur's turn to shrug.

"I didn't, really. That just sort of... happened. With Bill and all, I guess. Damn him."

Kieran made a tight noise in his throat as he rolled his eye and gestured to the bartender for more drinks. "Oh, Bill." he said, dismissively.

Arthur didn't mention Bill again, but still pressed the subject.

"Alright, but that kind of thing don't exactly happen every night. Thankfully. What about the rest of the time?"

Kieran took two fresh shots from the bartender and passed one to Arthur. "Well, you know... you usually just sort of look around and see who's lookin' at you, I guess. Someone seems like they're giving you the once-over, you smile at 'em and see if they smile back or give you a dirty look. Usually ain't _that_ hard to pick out of a crowd when they're lookin' too...I mean, have you really not noticed that cowboy across the bar who's been starin' at you since we came in-- _don't look, Arthur, Christ_ \--"

Arthur snapped his eyes back to Kieran's face, embarrassed. "Has he really been starin' at me?" he asked, astonished. Kieran just gave him a withering look as he downed his shot of whiskey. 

"Well, okay, so after you notice someone lookin' and you give 'em a smile, then what?" Arthur asked, motioning for Kieran to continue.

"Well, if he seemed...y'know, 'friendly', I'd go over and buy him a drink, usually."

"Really?" said Arthur, skeptically. "You would just go over and buy some other man a drink? How'd that go, exactly?"

"Well, if he was drinking a beer, I'd usually say 'Is that all you're drinking?' and I'd buy us a couple of whiskeys. If he was drinking whiskey, I'd say 'Don't you need something to wash that down with?' and I'd buy us a couple of beers. I could usually tell for sure if he was interested then-- if he gave me a funny look, I'd act like I was drunker than I was and go back to my side of the bar. But if he took it with a smile, I'd stay and talk. At some point, somebody'd bring up a hotel room upstairs, or an empty barn loft nearby or something, and we'd leave and meet up again later... y'know, privately."

"Huh!" Arthur finally remembered his shot and drank it down. "Lot easier with women around here, at least if you don't mind payin' for 'em. Half of them are ready to drag you upstairs as soon as you walk in."

"Or climb in the bathtub with you." muttered Kieran, and Arthur laughed. 

"C'mon, it's time to go get Karen anyway. Visiting hours gotta be ending by now."

He tossed some money down for the bartender and they walked back to the doctor's office, with Kieran trying to teach Arthur on the way how to properly time crossing the street (Arthur's usual method of just stepping off the curb and waiting for the carriages to stop tended to get him yelled at).

Visiting hours were indeed over when they got there-- Karen was leaned against a post outside waiting for them, clothes slightly mussed and a dreamy look in her eyes, humming to herself. She sprung to life when she saw them approach.

"Well, lookit you two!" she said cheerfully. "All decked out in them fancy things-- you oughta take me to a show, lookin' like that!"

Kieran was already giving him a pleading look before Arthur even started shaking his head.

"Oh, c'mon, Arthur!"

"Yeah, Arthur, it'll be fun!" Karen chimed in, laughing. Arthur knew when he was outnumbered and just sighed.

"I suppose I'm paying for the tickets, too..." he muttered.

"Course you are!" Karen told him. She started to set off towards the theatre, but Kieran stopped her.

"Now, hold on, Karen! You ain't really going to a show lookin' like that, are you?"

Arthur sputtered as he was faced with a pair of wicked smiles, and protested without avail all the way to the tailor's shop.

"Why the hell do I gotta pay for a damn dress?"

"What color silk you want, Karen?"

"You ain't gettin' one made of silk, that's too expensive!"

"Well, you and Arthur already got red and blue, so I think I'll get a nice purple silk. That color always looked good on me."

"Are you two even listenin' to me?!"

"No." Karen told him flatly, and the two of them burst into laughter as they swept into the tailor's shop. Arthur waited outside, wondering why in the hell he always seemed to let himself get roped into this nonsense and grumbling under his breath.

He was soon summoned inside to pay, and at least had to admit that Karen looked stunning swathed in her purple gown. She gave her curls a thoughtful bounce.

"I think my hair's alright as it is, let's get going. Course, I'm not walkin' there in this thing..."

Arthur muttered to himself under his breath, but didn't even bother protesting out loud by now as he hailed down a taxi outside.

At least the show was amusing. Arthur had been hoping for the giggling can-can girls to make a reappearance, but the woman who danced with a snake was a worthy enough substitute. He and Karen hooted while Kieran shrank down in his chair, covering his eyes. Next was what Arthur supposed was meant to be an escape artist, but if that's what he was then he wasn't very good at it. It took a few moments to realize that the shrieks of his panicked assistant were for real, but from the seventh row where they were sitting it was almost child's play for Arthur to stand and shoot the rope that was strangling him, letting him crash to the stage. The crowd around them murmured in astonishment, and Kieran looked at him in a way that made him sit a little straighter for the final act. The European strongwoman wasn't quite as thrilling after the other excitement, but Kieran cheered her along with Arthur and Karen and all in all it was a good way to end the night.

Of course they found themselves back at the saloon, toasting with whiskey until a giddy Karen declared herself ready for bed. Arthur paid for a couple of rooms and took her upstairs.

She wrapped her arms around him as he tried to open the door to her room so he could take her inside. "Oh, Arthur. " she sighed. "I ain't never been so happy."

"Well, I'm glad of that, Miss Karen. You mind lettin' me put you to bed now?"

She gave him a mocking slap on the face that didn't really hurt. "Why, Arthur Morgan, you sly dog! You're just trying to get in my room! Well, I ain't that drunk, mister!" She giggled and wobbled as she pushed the door to her room open and disappeared inside. "Good night, Arthur!"

"Good night, Miss Karen." He left her as the door clicked shut and made his way back down to the saloon.

He paused at the bottom of the stairs. Instead of going back over to the other side of the bar where he'd been sitting before, he walked slowly to one of the stools near the stairs and sat down alone, wondering at himself and at the strange feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Across the bar, he could see a handsome, dark-haired man with an eyepatch giving him a very puzzled look. Arthur flashed him a smile before he turned away as the bartender gave him a beer. When he looked back, the man's confusion had already changed to understanding, and he stared at Arthur in a hungry way that made his stomach flip-flop. He drank his beer and waited.

"Is that all you're drinkin'?" Came a voice at his elbow a few moments later. The man from across the bar slid into a stool next to him and gestured to the bartender. "Two whiskeys, please."

Arthur took the shot that was placed in front of him and downed it with a grateful nod. "Sure appreciate it, partner. Don't believe we've met."

The man's grin widened until he looked almost wolfish, staring at Arthur like he wanted to devour him. "No, I don't think we have. Kieran Duffy."

He held out his hand, and Arthur gave it a shake, feeling the other man's palm warm against his own. His remaining gray-green eye stared into Arthur's.

"Arthur Morgan."

The man--Duffy, Arthur reminded himself-- leaned against the bar with an easy grace, studying Arthur as he downed his own whiskey. "Good to meet you, Mr. Morgan." he said. "You been down to St. Denis before?"

"A couple of times." Arthur drawled. "Still don't know my way around, I'm afraid."

Duffy's wolfish smile softened slightly. "Well, maybe I could show you around tomorrow. I'm gettin' to know it pretty well."

"Well, that'd sure be handy, Mr. Duffy. Say, you wouldn't know where a feller could find a place to stay around here?"

Duffy shrugged. "I'm just stayin' upstairs right here. Not sure about anywhere else, but a feller could sure get a nice rest here, I suppose."

"I suppose so." Arthur muttered in agreement, gulping at his beer as he felt his cheeks burn. He suddenly remembered that the key to the upstairs room was in his own pocket and took it out, laying it on the bar with a hand that trembled slightly. Duffy took it, his own hand steady.

"Here's hopin' I see you again soon, Mr. Morgan." he said smoothly, and then he disappeared upstairs.

Arthur drank the rest of his beer slowly, surprised at the butterflies in his stomach. He wasn't exactly some blushing virgin, was he? And yet he sat there, watching his shaking hands send ripples dancing across the surface of his beer.

Finally he had to down the last of it and make his way up the staircase, pausing outside the room at the top before finally knocking with a light hand.

The door opened and Duffy peeked out at him, gesturing for him to come inside.

Once Arthur had stepped into the dark room, Duffy quickly shut the door behind him and then pressed Arthur up against it, pulling his shirt out from where it was tucked in and sliding his hands up underneath. Arthur groaned as the butterflies swarmed.

Duffy paused and looked up at him. "You alright, Mr. Morgan?" he asked, and Arthur nodded.

"Just... I don't do this kinda thing often." he said quietly, and Duffy gave him a warm look.

"That's alright. I did say I don't mind showin' you the way."

Arthur bent down to kiss him then, and was surprised when Duffy jerked away from him before visibly remembering himself with a start.

"Oh! Uh, sorry!" he said, sheepishly. "I didn't mean to-- it's just that I don't usually like to-- well, it's alright with you, anyway. I... got a feeling about you, Mr. Morgan."

And then he kissed Arthur himself, pressing him back against the door as their tongues tangled wetly together. Arthur let Duffy take the lead, still feeling slightly lightheaded.

He was too surprised to say anything when Duffy suddenly broke the kiss and dropped to his knees, deftly opening Arthur's dress pants. Arthur just had to bite his knuckle as Duffy eagerly devoured his cock, trying to be quiet as he thought of the other hotel guests just on the other side of the door. He tangled his other hand in Duffy's hair, ruining the pomade as he ran his fingers through it over and over again. Finally he had to tap a bit frantically on his shoulder.

"Here, now, this evenin's gonna be endin' mighty early if you don't stop that." Arthur said, his voice strained.

Duffy pulled his mouth off of Arthur with a wet noise. "Oh, we wouldn't want that." he agreed hoarsely.

Arthur continued to let the other man take the lead as he stood and guided the two of them over to the bed. He started pulling off both their clothes with nimble fingers, poking at Arthur's shirt pocket and giving him an inquisitive look after he'd taken his vest off for him. Arthur guessed he knew what he was looking for.

He pulled the vial of gun oil out of his back pocket and held it up, watching a fire start to smolder in Duffy's eye as he stared at it.

"Now, you hang on to that." he told Arthur. "Since you're the one who's gonna--"

"No, you."

Duffy stared at him as he held the vial out.

"I'd rather you do it. You said you don't mind showin' me, right? Since I ain't... I ain't done it this way before."

The smolder in Duffy's eye burst into a burning flame as he plucked the vial out of Arthur's hand and then leaned forward to smother him in a kiss. Soon his hands were back at their work of divesting the two of them of their clothes, and then he was sitting naked between Arthur's drawn-up knees, eagerly kissing his way up one of his thighs. Arthur took a deep breath to steady himself, feeling incredibly vulnerable with his legs spread open. And leaning over him this way, Duffy seemed to fill up not just his vision but his world. It was overwhelming.

He shuddered as felt an oiled finger pressing and circling at his entrance-- more than anything, it just felt _odd_. Then suddenly Duffy bit at his neck while he pressed his finger in, and Arthur yelped as bright sensation bloomed in his body. Duffy chuckled next to his ear and started curling his finger, producing an answering curl in Arthur's toes as a deep heat started to build inside him.

Duffy took his time preparing Arthur, going so much slower than he'd thought he would. He gently stretched and stroked Arthur's flesh with first one finger, then with two, until his cock was weeping against his belly and his clenched fists were nearly tearing holes in the sheet. 

After some timeless interval his fingers finally withdrew, and Arthur opened his eyes and swallowed thickly as he watched Duffy coat oil over his cock with long, slow strokes.

Then he was between Arthur's thighs again, reaching out a hand to cup his cheek. Arthur covered it with his own, squeezing his eyes shut as he felt the other man pushing slowly into him. It didn't exactly _hurt_ too badly, but it was the strangest damn thing Arthur had ever felt, to have his body held open and the heat of another inside him. Duffy started to slowly roll his hips, and Arthur grimaced as the friction and motion actually did start to hurt.

"Relax." Duffy cooed at him. "Just relax, focus on those muscles..."

He spoke to Arthur like he was trying to calm a skittish horse, right down to the reassuring pats on Arthur's thigh. It seemed to work; after Arthur tried to breathe deeply and relax for a few long moments (and Duffy added some more oil) the movement started to feel easier and more comfortable.

Duffy started to move more quickly then, and Arthur grunted as that deep heat from before started to return and build again. He pushed himself up on one shaking elbow and watched the other man thrust into him, his hips moving with an easy fluidity. He noticed Arthur watching and laughed breathlessly, increasing his speed until Arthur fell back against the pillow with a helpless groan, spreading his knees wider and tangling his fists back in the sheets again.

"Faster." he begged through clenched teeth, and Duffy started to fuck him in earnest, driving into Arthur's body with enough force to shake the bed, over and over. Arthur just moaned as his body melted into fire, unaware he could even make such a high-pitched noise but helpless to stop himself. Duffy started roughly stroking his cock in time with his thrusts and Arthur gasped as he felt himself reaching the edge.

"Oh, Kieran, _I love you_ \--" he whispered, his voice choked, as his world tipped over sideways, the fire inside him exploding into pleasure that painted his vision white.

When it cleared, Kieran was slumped over him, panting.

"Why, Mr. Morgan." he said breathlessly, pretending to be scandalized. "I just met you."

Arthur just laughed with him, then groaned as Kieran pulled out.

"Sorry, I mighta-- mighta been too rough--" Kieran told him apologetically, looking guilty.

"Nah, you were perfect." said Arthur with a tired smile.

Kieran was looking down at him like he'd hung the moon.

"I love you, Arthur." he said quietly, and Arthur pulled him down into an embrace.

"I love you, too. Go to sleep now, Mr. Duffy."

"You too, Mr. Morgan."

And so they did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not the only one constantly getting run down by carriages when they try to cross the street in St. Denis, right?
> 
> ...right?


End file.
